The news still stinging, I veer one way then another, letting my car take its own course. The good leave us untimely and without tact, I think. No, not think, know. We all know.
In our youth, we are innocent. We love innocently. Growing up, I often catch myself seeking that same dewy-eyed love, that open and guileless warmth, firmly ingrained in my mind from childhood. Fitzsimmons’ “Not Just Each Other” gives me peace of mind, subconsciously acknowledging that the best is not behind me. I am bound for greater loves.