September 11 ( 9/11 ) Story

by Unknown

"You say you will never forget where you were when you heard the news On September 11, 2001. Neither will I. I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room with a man who called his wife to say "Good-Bye." I held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the peace to say, "Honey, I am not going to make it, but it is OK...I am ready to go." I was with his wife when he called as she fed breakfast to their children. I held her up as she tried to understand his words and as she realized he wasn't coming home that night. I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a woman cried out to Me for help. "I have been knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!" I said. "Of course I will show you the way home - only believe in Me now." I was at the base of the building with the Priest ministering to the injured and devastated souls. I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He heard my voice and answered. I was on all four of those planes, in every seat, with every prayer. I was with the crew as they were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the believers there, comforting and assuring them that their faith has saved them. I was in Texas, Kansas, London. I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news. Did you sense Me? I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew every name - ! though not all know Me. Some met Me for the first time on the 86th floor. Some sought Me with their last breath. Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the smoke and flames; "Come to Me... this way... take my hand." Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me. But, I was there. I did not place you in the Tower that day. You may not know why, but I do. However, if you were there in that explosive moment in time, would you have reached for Me? September 11, 2001 was not the end of the journey for you. But someday your journey will end. And I will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may be found. Then, at any moment, you know you ! are "ready to go." I will be in the stairwell of your final moments. God.

The Wallet

by Rev. Mary.

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years. The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope. "Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?" She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you." I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked. "I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter." She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number. They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home. This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. " Even though it was already 10 p.m., I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television." I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter. The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael." She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said Softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor." "Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know," she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..." I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?" I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet." I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times." "Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake. "He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on. I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up. On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man." We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!" "This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?" I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward." "No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet." The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?" "Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is." He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged. "She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said, "You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her. " "Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me." We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her. "Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?" She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?" She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces. "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be." About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!" It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple. A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

The Blind Bus Passenger

submitted by Hamza Hassan

The passengers on the bus watched sympathetically as the attractive young woman with the white cane made her way carefully up the steps. she paid the driver, using her hands to feel the location of the seats, walked down the aisle, and found the seat he\'d told her was empty. then she settled in, placed her briefcase on her lap, and rested her cane against her leg. it had been a year since Susan, thirty-four, became blind. due to a medical misdiagnosis, she had been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly thrown into a world of darkness, anger, frustration, and self-pity. once a fiercely independent woman, Susan now felt condemned by this terrible twist of fate to become a powerless and helpless burden on everyone around her. "how could this have happened to me?" she would plead, her heart knotted with anger, but no matter how much she cried, protested, ranted, or prayed, she knew the painful truth that her sight was never going to return. a cloud of depression hung over Susan's once optimistic spirit. just getting through each day was an exercise in frustration and exhaustion. and all she had to cling to was her husband mark. mark was an air forces officer and he loved Susan with all of his heart. when she first lost her sight, he watched her sink into despair and was determined to help his wife gain the strength and confidence she needed to become independent again. mark's military background had trained him well to deal with such sensitive situations, and yet he knew this was the most difficult battle he would ever face. finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but how would she get there? she used to take the bus, but was now too frightened to get around the city by herself. mark volunteered to drive her to and from work each day, even though they worked at opposite ends of the city. at first, this comforted Susan and fulfilled mark's need to protect his sightless wife who was so insecure about performing the slightest task. soon, however, mark realized that this arrangement wasn't working, it was hectic and costly. Susan is going to have to start taking the bus again\' he admitted to himself, but just the thought of mentioning it to her made him cringe, she was still so fragile and so angry. 'how would she react?' he admitted to himself again. just as mark predicted, Susan was horrified at the idea of taking the bus again. "i'm blind!" she responded bitterly "how am i supposed to know where I'm going? I feel like you are abandoning me". mark's heart broke to hear these words, but he knew what had to be done. he promised Susan that each morning and evening he would ride the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she got the hang of it. and that is exactly what happened. for two solid weeks, mark, military uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from work each day. he taught her how to rely on her other senses specifically her hearing, how to determine where she was, and how to adapt to her new environment. he helped her befriend the bus drivers who could watch out for her, and save her a seat. he made her laugh, even on those not-so-good days when she would trip exiting the bus, or drop her briefcase. each morning they made the journey together, and mark would take a cab back to his office. although this routine was even more costly and exhausting than the previous one, mark knew it was only a matter of time before Susan would be able to ride the bus on her own. he believed in her, he used to know before she'd lost her sight, who wasn't afraid of any challenge and who would never, ever quit. finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived, and before she left, she threw her arms around mark, her temporary bus riding companion, her husband, and her best friend. her eyes filled with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his sincerity, his patience, and his love. she said good-bye, and for the first time they went their separate ways. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, each day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had never felt better. she was doing it and she was going to work all by herself. on Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work as usual. as she was paying for her fare to exit the bus, the driver said "hey, I sure envy you" Susan wasn't sure if the driver was speaking to her or not. after all, who on earth would ever envy a blind woman who had struggled just to find the courage to live for the past year?. curiously, she asked him "why do you say that you envy me?" the driver responded "it must feel so good to be taken care of and protected like you are". Susan had no idea what the driver was talking about, she asked him again "what do you mean?". the driver answered, "you know, every morning for the past week, a fine looking gentleman in a military uniform has been standing across the corner watching you when you get off the bus. he makes sure you cross the street safely and he watches you until you enter your office building. then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little salute, and walks away. you are one lucky lady". tears of happiness poured down Susan's cheeks. for although she couldn't physically see him, she had always felt mark\'s presence. she was fortunate, so fortunate, for he had given her a gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn't need to see to believe, the gift of love that can bring light where there had been darkness. you don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. god watches over us in just the same way. we may not know his presence, and we may not be able to see his blessed face, but he is there nonetheless... he is there no doubt, we must be so thankful and grateful for him for he is always there for us. be blessed in this thought: 'god loves you even when you are not looking'.

Love At First Sight

by Anna Billa

I also met my love on the net, at first it was not that easy, and i nearly gave up after few email communication, i decided to drop down my phone number and was very desperate hoping it will not work out. One fine day i had a phone call, and he was at the other end wanting to speak to me, from that moment we exchange the feelings and realized we really love each other. we have been communicating through phone, emails , skype and always spend more hours talking to each other, now we have come to a conclusion that we love each other and that we are meant for each other, so we want to break the distance, that happens so fast. we are now looking on how to be together to enjoys the fantastic love between us. he lives in Belgium and i in Cameroon, i need help to handle all this especially how to live together because i can't leave without him. i love him so much and i don\'t bear for more months staying alone here with my sweet love. thanks to the net that brought my love one to me.

An Unforgettable First Kiss

Unknown

My very first kiss... yes, I remember it well. She had been visiting my family this Sunday afternoon into the early evening. It was in the middle of winter and being in a northern state, it was very cold. Time finally came for her to return to her family a couple of blocks away from where I lived. I helped her on with her coat and she and I stepped through the door onto an uncovered porch. The window in the door was all steamed up from the heat within so no one could see us outside except as a blur. When we stepped outside, we found that is was pouring down snow in very large flakes and starting to gather on the ground. As we were standing there watching the snow, we turned toward each other, no words had been spoken, as if the snow had taken away our ability to talk. We looked into each other's eyes and still without saying a word, we stepped toward each other, we embraced and then our lips met; soft, warm, moist a totally sensual moment, but being so young, we had only the vaguest idea what sensual was. Our lips stayed together a long time, the snow falling in these huge drops around us and on us. Finally we parted and we both knew that THE THING had finally happened for both of us. Our First Kiss. Unforgettable.

The Story Of Life

by Unknown
Sometimes people come into your life and you know right away that they were meant to be there, to serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or to help you figure out who you are or who you want to become. You never know who these people may be...possibly your roommate, neighbor, coworker, long lost friend, or even a complete stranger, but when you lock eyes with them, you know at that very moment they will affect your life in some profound way. And sometimes things happen to you that may seem horrible, painful, and unfair at first, but in reflection you find that without overcoming those obstacles you would have never realized your potential, strength, willpower, or heart. Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by chance or by means of good luck. Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul. Without these small tests, whatever they may be, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight, flat road to nowhere. It would be safe and comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless. The people you meet who affect your life, and the success and downfalls you experience, help to create who you are and who you become. Even the bad experiences can be learned from. In fact, they are probably the most poignant and important ones. If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn about trust and the importance of being cautious when you open your heart. If someone loves you, love them back unconditionally, not only because they love you, but because in a way, they are teaching you to love and how to open your heart and eyes to things. Make every day count. Appreciate every moment and take from those moments everything that you possibly can for you may never be able to experience it again. Talk to people that you have never talked to before, and actually listen. Let yourself fall in love, break free, and set your sights high. Hold your head up because you have every right to. Tell yourself you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don’t believe in yourself, it will be hard for others to believe in you. You can make of your life anything you wish. Create your own life and then go out and live it with absolutely no regrets. Most importantly!!! if you LOVE someone tell him or her, for you never know what tomorrow may have in store. And learn a lesson in life each day that you live. THAT’S THE STORY OF LIFE

Chain Of Love

by Unknown
He was driving home one evening, on a two-lane country road. Work, in this small mid-western community, was almost as slow as his beat-up Pontiac. But he never quit looking. Ever since the Levis factory closed, he'd been unemployed, and with winter raging on, the chill had finally hit home. It was a lonely road. Not very many people had a reason to be on it, unless they were leaving. Most of his friends had already left. They had families to feed and dreams to fulfill. But he stayed on. After all, this was where he buried his mother and father. He was born here and knew the country. He could go down this road blind, and tell you what was on either side, and with his headlights not working, that came in handy. It was starting to get dark and light snow flurries were coming down. He'd better get a move on. You know, he almost didn't see the old lady, stranded on the side of the road. But even in the dim light of day, he could see she needed help. So he pulled up in front of her Mercedes and got out. His Pontiac was still sputtering when he approached her. Even with the smile on his face, she was worried. No one had stopped to help for the last hour or so. Was he going to hurt her? He didn't look safe, he looked poor and hungry. He could see that she was frightened, standing out there in the cold. He knew how she felt. It was that chill that only fear can put in you. He said, "I'm here to help you m'am. Why don't you wait in the car where it's warm. By the way, my name is Joe." Well, all she had was a flat tire, but for an old lady, that was bad enough Joe crawled under the car looking for a place to put the jack, skinning his knuckles a time or two. Soon he was able to change the tire. But he had to get dirty and his hands hurt. As he was tightening up the lug nuts, she rolled down her window and began to talk to him. She told him that she was from St. Louis and was only just passing through. She couldn't thank him enough for coming to her aid. Joe just smiled as he closed her trunk. She asked him how much she owed him. Any amount would have been alright with her. She had already imagined all the awful things that could have happened had he not stopped. Joe never thought twice about the money. This was not a job to him. This was helping someone in need, and God knows there were plenty who had given him a hand in the past. He had lived his whole life that way, and it never occurred to him to act any other way. He told her that if she really wanted to pay him back, the next time she saw someone who needed help, she could give that person the assistance that they needed, and Joe added "...and think of me". He waited until she started her car and drove off. It had been a cold and depressing day, but he felt good as he headed for home, disappearing into the twilight. A few miles down the road the lady saw a small cafe. She went in to grab a bite to eat, and take the chill off before she made the last leg of her trip home. It was a dingy looking restaurant. Outside were two old gas pumps. The whole scene was unfamiliar to her. The cash register was like the telephone of an out of work actor, it didn't ring much. Her waitress came over and brought a clean towel to wipe her wet hair. She had a sweet smile, one that even being on her feet for the whole day couldn't erase. The lady noticed that the waitress was nearly eight months pregnant, but she never let the strain and aches change her attitude. The old lady wondered how someone who had so little could be so giving to a stranger. Then she remembered Joe. After the lady finished her meal, and the waitress went to get her change from a hundred dollar bill, the lady slipped right out the door. She was gone by the time the waitress came back. She wondered where the lady could be, then she noticed something written on a napkin. There were tears in her eyes, when she read what the lady wrote. It said, "You don't owe me a thing, I've been there too. Someone once helped me out, the way I'm helping you. If you really want to pay me back, here's what you do. Don't let the chain of love end with you." Well, there were tables to clear, sugar bowls to fill, and people to serve, but the waitress made it through another day. That night when she got home from work and climbed into bed, she was thinking about the money and what the lady had written. How could she have known how much she and her husband needed it? With the baby due next month, it was going to be hard. She knew how worried her husband was, and as he lay sleeping next to her, she gave him a soft kiss and whispered soft and low, "Everything's gonna be alright, I love you Joe."

Let Me Love You

by Unknown

Once upon a time, there was once a guy who was very much in love with this girl. This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl. Although, at that time he was just a small executive in his company, his future doesn't seemed too bright, they were very happy together. Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back. She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for the both of them, so let's go their own ways there and then... heartbroken, the guy agreed. When he regained his confidence, he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind just to make something out of himself. Finally with all these hard work and with the help of friends, this guy had set up his own company... "You never fail until you stop trying." he always told himself. "I must make it in life!" One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination. Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched. It didn't take him long to realize those were his ex-girlfriend's parents. With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple, wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan. He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same anymore. He had his own company, car, condo, etc. He had made it in life! Before the guy can realize, the couple was walking towards a cemetery, and he got out of his car and followed them...and he saw his ex-girlfriend, a photograph of her smiling sweetly as ever at him from her tombstone... and he saw his precious paper cranes in a bottle placed beside her tomb. Her parents saw him. He walked over and asked them why this had happened. They explained, she did not leave for France at all. She was stricken ill with cancer. In her heart, she had believed that he will make it someday, but she did not want her illness to be his obstacle ... therefore she had chosen to leave him. She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because, if the day comes when fate brings him to her again he can take some of those back with him. The guy just wept ...the worst way to miss someone is to be sitting right beside them but knowing you can't have them and will never see them again.

Who Do You Love

by Unknown

John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose. His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II During the next year and one-month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A Romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like. When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting - 7:00 pm at Grand Central Station in New York. "You'll recognize me, " she wrote, "by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel." So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen. I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young women was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, sailor?" she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A women well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the women whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own. And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the women, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?" The women's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!" It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in it's response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."

Honey

by Vicky

My name is Sarah and my best friend is called Honey and she is a Guinea Pig. One day I was at school and we had to take in our pets for Show and tell. I got really excited about showing everyone Honey as she was a gold honey colour and was very friendly. It was my turn to go up so I got Honey out of the box and started to speak: "Hello class this is my guinea pig it is 4 years old which is quite old for a guinea pig and her name is Honey. She Is my best friend cause she never gets angry with me and always listens she never gives me an answer but that doesn't matter. I love her. Thank you very much." My school teacher was taking pictures of us with our pets so I stood and smiled with Honey and I felt proud to be standing in front of every one. Usually I hate talking in front of the class but having my best friend cuddling up to me made it all better. I then put Honey back in the box and then sat down to watch the other kids. At dinner time I took Honey to the front of the school to wait for mum to come and get her. I kissed Honey goodbye and then I walked into school. The rest of the day went fast and when the bell went for the end of school I raced home to go and see Honey. When I got there I knocked really loud but there was no answer so I went to Pauline's next door and when I got there she looked sad but I thought I better not ask what was wrong as something really upsetting could have happened. But I asked her: "Pauline do you know where my mum is?" "Yes she has gone shopping come in and wait for her." "If you don't mind can I first go and check on Honey?" "No you best stay here so I know where you are, go and switch on the TV." "Ok." It was about an hour before mum got back when she did I said: "Mum hurry up." "Dear first I need to speak to you. I have been.." "Yeah up town great now hurry up." "No dear I went to the vets." "Why what's wrong with champagne the rabbit?" "Nothing it's Honey he died of old age." "No not honey no this is a lie it can't be true." By this time my eyes were filling up with tears. "Mum if you don't mind I need to be alone can I go for a walk?" "Yes but be careful and don't go further than the shop." "OK and mum one more thing have you got honey?" "Yes." "Well can I take her with me she will keep me safe I am only going to the field over there?" "Ok." I ran over to the field and then ran right in to the middle and leapt down and started to cry. I felt like my heart had been broken in two. Honey was in a box so I slowly opened it to have a look at her. She looked so quiet and sad. "Oh Honey come back please you're my best friend I can't survive with out you. How will I ever be able to say goodbye you have been the best friend any one could have ever wished for. Please Honey the world won't be as happy with out you on it." I lay there crying and looking up into the blue sky hoping Honey would be in Heaven. The next day I was dreading school but I put on a brave face and when I got there my close friend Helen was waiting for me "Hi What's up with you?" "Nothing." "OH yeah." "OK Honey died last night." I felt tears running down my face so Helen came and gave me a hug. "It is alright me and you can be best friends." "No you can't ever replace Honey I hate you." I screamed at her. At break time I went to the toilets. I was in the cubicle when Helen and a few of my other friends came in and they were saying: "She went bonkers on me I can't believe it. It's only a guinea pig for heaven sake." They were all being horrible and I felt about 2 cm tall. I missed Honey if she was here I would be able to tell her this and then when I had finished she would look up at me in those big deep lovely eyes. I walked out of the toilet cubicle Helen stared at me and then she said: "I am sorry I didn't know you were there." "Yeah it figures. I am sorry too." "What for?" "That you are the most horrible girl and I was your friend now bye." I then went to see in a corner of the playground all on my own until a girl came and started to talk to me: "Hi Sarah." "Hi Katie." "I heard that Honey died it was a gorgeous guinea pig my rabbit just died last night too." "How are you coping." "So so." I then told her that I would meet her after school and we could walk home together. Me and Katie became really close and we were best friends but we knew that we weren't best best friends cause they were our pets Honey and Nibbles.

Forever and Always

by M & D

Well, this all started off in Summer School this past summer (you know how they say you can meet people in the strangest and most unexpected place) so anyway... It was about the second week and I was in class and he walked in. It was this handsome, attractive young man and I was infatuated about him. so, I could do nothing but stare at him that day. And then, what could have been more amazing, and nervously coincidental at the same time, he sat next to me (not much of a big deal, but at the time it was, trust me) so, I saw the way he looked at me when I asked him to pass me a book. Little did I know, this was the way he would always look at me. Two day later, we had to evacuate the building and that is the first time I had the chance to talk to him. So, every single day, I wouldn't take an eye off him. I was too busy being toungue-twisted, sweaty, and clammy to have an unervous conversation with him. In the class, we would have movie day every friday. and when a certain part of the movie would come (ex: kissing, intimacy, etc.) and we would look at each other in a really strange but hilarious way. Sometimes, we occasionally laugh about it and continue watching the movie, but every day we would walk out the door and I would just look at him and want to put my arm around him, hold his hand and kiss him.

When we arrived in the mornings, he would wait for me only to have to separate when we get to our particular sides of the hallway. every day it would be like this. It was my birthday party and I was giving out invites and I gave him an invite. He couldn't make it but, we started talking on the phone a lot after that. and everyday I grew even more nervous around him and became so unsure about him. but, over time I knew that eventually I would have to say something in length.) I wondered about a lot: If he liked me back, If he even wanted anything to do with me, or, if he even had a girlfriend.

One day, our teacher was at the back of the classroom, and she was giving a lecture and remember, he is sitting directly next to me, so, I felt like I was being watched, so, all of a sudden, I looked over at him, and he happened to be staring at me. At first I was in denial and thought he was looking out the window but, it was me he was taking a glimpse at. So, I was kind of stunned and went home wondering. The next friday happened to be the last day and we had to go back to finish finals and I was waiting on him (this day I decided to confess to him that I liked him and I actually wrote two poems to let out clues and also planned to kiss him but that backfired on me) so, he came out from finishing his finals and me, him. and one of my friends decided to talk a walk all the way around the school. It came time for my friend to go home, and that left me and Darold. and I moved closer to him and talked to him some more. It was time for him to go and I gave him the poems I wrote and told him "after you get done reading them, throw them away".

We went home that same night and talked on the phone. I had asked him what and who did he think I was referring to in both poems. Darold had no Idea it was him. Then, I told him I liked him and that I was In love with him. Clutching on to my pillow, waiting for a response from him, I was even more excited when he told me he felt the same way about me and that his heart always went out to me. The next day, we had gotten together. So far we have been together for almost four months and its been beautiful. to everyone that has true feelings for anyone, my advice to them is that they should tell them because you'll never know how they feel unless you say something. He has become a part of me and my heart has always went out to him too. Behind those graciously good looks is faith, kindness, intellegence, and honesty and I wouldn't trade the world for hi

Soul Mates

by J and L

I had a dream of finding my one life long friend, my partner, my soul mate who would be there for me in my time of need and who could delight, thrill and entertain me in a unique way. In addition to conversation on a deep level and an understanding of my little idiosyncrasies and irritations that in turn strengthened our bond and sincere connection with each other.

I never realised that in my search to find her, I would one Sunday afternoon oblivious that this would actually be the day I meet my soul mate. There she was standing across the crowd, eyes engrossed on me not moving, blinking. Just a mysterious stare from across the room. My heart racing realising in fact that it was me she were fixated on.

Slowly and carefully moving across the room towards her trying not to make it obvious but still intent on meeting her with my now purpose… Wanting to open with – “Will you marry me?” – How did I know yet, not even knowing her name? How did I know she was the one? How did I know? I somehow just did as if sent by some mysterious force to be in the same place at the same time on the same day… Someone had been picking up on my subconscious messages into the universe to find my life long friend and soul mate. That someone sent me there for her that Sunday. Someone sent her there for me.

The minute I learnt her name and had her number I txt her with the words… “Louisa Grow Old With Me” as if being written down would strengthen the message wanting to be conveyed. We had so much fun that evening, that seemed to go on forever. We danced, we hugged, we kissed, we spoke, we laughed, but most of all - we knew…

A few days passed and we got in contact once again. Our bond just grew and grew and continued to get stronger day by day. After a few months I asked her to join me in a trip back home to meet my parents, to which she was more than delighted to accept. On our return we moved in together and things just seemed so right! Louisa had now become the face on the woman in my dreams I had always dreamed of finding. She is loving, generous, adorable and most of all, my best friend! We are planning to get engaged this year and to be married soon after.

I won’t spend my life waiting for an angel to descend, searching for a rainbow with out an end, gazing at the stars up in the sky wondering of love will pass me by… now that I have found you I will call off the search.. You are the tiger burning bright deep in the forest of my night. You sleep by the silent cooling streams in the darkness of my dreams, all of my life I never knew you were the dream I would see coming true. I was the one who looked so hard, I could not see, and now I could never live with out the love you give to me. I lived like a wild and lonely soul, lost in a dream beyond control. You are the one who brought me home. From now until forever... S'agapo my Girl..

29 Years Ago

by j-l

29 years ago…
A little boy sits on the edge of my mother’s green tweed couch, his eyes exploring the length of the fishing rod in his hands.  His fisted hand circles…in make-believe of reeling…pulling in an imaginary fish.  Meanwhile, he tips an ear toward his father’s conversation, as fishing questions and answers are exchanged.
On the other side of that fishing conversation is my father – detailing the steps necessary to casting the line, controlling the slack, hooking a fish, and removing the fish from the hook. 
The little boy’s eyes remain wide.  His sideways attention focuses on the information his father gathers.  His hands move with quiet wonderment – reeling, feeling, and dreaming with his new pole.  Well, it’s new to him.
My father is handing over one of his fishing poles for the sake of a young boy who has the desire to fish.  The boy’s father is learning, so that he can teach his son.
From the kitchen, I secretly peer around the living room wall at this six year old kid.  I think, so different than the others I know.  He’s quiet.  He hangs on his father’s every word.  He’s determined, in his own six-year-old way, to successfully reel in the big one.  He must live in a home much like mine.  He seems to be like me.

4 years later…
I find myself in a strange but warmly welcoming home, with its own smell of roasting meat and apple pie.  It is the home of the boy who’d been at my house for a fishing pole.  I only know this because my father refreshes my memory.
I haven’t seen the boy since he’s been to my house for the pole.  Even forgot his face until I see it again.  It’s different now.  Older, less quiet.  In his own home, he’s comfortable, more talkative.  He eats dinner with gusto, like he belongs there. 
Today, I am the quiet, listening one.

After dinner, I find myself in the seat of a pickup truck.  Also in the truck are the boy, his sister, and his mother.  As his mother bends the truck along country roads on the way back from the market, my comfort level builds and we chatter as children do…about hilarious happenings in our own neighborhoods.  About our pets.  About our favorite doughnut and ice cream flavors.
Then…the conversation shifts.  The boy suddenly decides that I’m stupid.  That my stories are stupid.  That I’m really not worth his breath.  The ride is completed in silence, save the droning of country music and his mother’s occasional attempt at heightening our spirits. 
On my way back home, my mom says that how little boys act when they don’t know how to express themselves.  I decide that his stories were pretty stupid, too.  But can’t seem to forget them.


10 years later…
My work in the office of a construction company delivers me right into the middle of male conversations.  Talk of women, beer, and pending jobs flow freely through my adjoining office, and I have little sense of my own space. 
Additionally, that space is invaded by a man...daily.  Pleasing to the eye, his presence detracts from my attention to my job – annoys me into noticing his advances, and prompts me agree that yes, I would be at the company Christmas party that night.
At the party, dozens of people separate me from the man.  But those people might as well be transparent, because he’s all I see.
His wide shoulders are rounded with easiness, his speech flowing with comfort as he stands surrounded by his peers.  His laughter is physical, with a bend at the waist and a slap on his knee.  He wipes his hand across his forehead and down over his right eye, a gesture that seems to wipe away laughter in preparation for the next joke.
When he approaches me, it is with a lanky gate, like that of a youthful Marlboro Man.  The noisy dining hall seems to fall silent.
His blond and brown curls peek around tiny, perfect ears and grasp the edges of smooth cheekbones.  His brown eyes are dark, like the mud under a shade tree the day after rain.  His mouth is small with plump rosy lips.  His rounded chin juts northward, as if wanting to touch his manly, adequate nose.  He is packaged in smooth, tanned skin, the color of the desert at sunset. 
His height and build should belong to a professional athlete, but are rather evident of his manual labor.  His lengthy arms lead to calloused, crooked digits topped with wide, flat fingernails.  His knuckles are broad.  His hands are rough, yet sweet. 

3 years later…
That wishing fisher boy, that insult-delivering 10-year-old, that curly-haired, genuine, good hearted man is now my husband.  We hadn’t recognized each other at work, or at the Christmas party, or even during our first official date. 
It wasn’t until our parents pointed out that we had met, years before, that we finally connected the faces of today to the faces of yesterday.
I still peek at him in secret amazement.  He still listens to my stories (but without the insults).  He still invades my space, but only because I’ve extended a lifelong invitation for him to do so. 
The biggest change?  He’s no longer fishing.  He’s caught the one he wants…and I’ve been reeled in…without a fight.