All ya'll seem so small
Out the window of my rocket ship

[preacher]
just hollow shells of what had once held vibrant life
you hear me right now
no matter how much else you may have going for you
if the river ever leaves
you die

I keep having this dream. I'm walking in a field. It's really late, or maybe really early. I feel safe…I think. I don't know where I am.

Exactly nineteen months ago we were in this same hospital, eagerly waiting to meet your sister. Today, it's your turn.

I didn't think this would happen for at least a few more years, but a couple days ago our nine month old ordered her first lightning deal from Amazon using an unlocked iPhone (whoops).

If you ask me what I want out of life, you'll get a simple answer. But getting there has been anything but simple. I work my ass off, but there's always more to do. I try to save money, but there are always more bills to pay. I try to be the best husband and father I can be, but there's never enough time.

I came up with this years ago in my head. I used to type it as dummy text when I was trying out a keyboard or just needed to type something—kinda like Lorem Ipsum.

The beating of your heart plays on the machine across the room. In the distance, I hear a new baby crying and I can't help but think that soon, it will be you that I'm hearing.

It was sometime around the end of fifth grade when my parents decided to move from New Hampshire to Florida. At that age, I never understood why they made that decision. I was young, but I had friends, a place I loved, a life I was familiar with.