Come on Home, Boy.

I feel like I should be playing catch-up because it's been approx. 36 days since I've written here. Wherever here is. But, that's not what I want to do because it'd be a lot of stress, and ag, and probably too many underlying this-is-all-about-you-and-hard-teenage-girl-life-stuff messages that not even I could understand. 

So instead, this is about Addy. This is about Laura, and Shelbie, and phone messages. It's about medication, and water, and sore legs, and how my new year starts tomorrow. This is about numbers, and dreams about wrestler boys, and wood shopping, and magic pants, and Georgia peaches, and that gym. It's about late night dinners, America, long lunches, the Bravermans, mothers, twitter, kissing and 3. This is about fingers, and Kolton, and Kira, and cancer, and wet, jet black eyelashes. This is about holding your breath, and silence, and prayers, and maybe even a little bit about Seth. 

Because all of that is what this is about. (and run-on sentences)

M.organ