Drinking Faygo is like climbing aboard a time machine, (at least for me it is, may not be the same for you.) It transports me back to my grandparents condo, to when I was a little girl. They always had Faygo on hand and ready in their pantry, those wonderful glass bottles were actually delivered to their house weekly! My favorite was the ruby-red colored Rock-n-Rye, just watch out for the matching mustache! At this point in my life there was nothing better than going to grandma and grandpa Sugarmans'. I would raid the gum drawer, go swimming in their pool, and their was also the amazing drug company gadgets from my grandpa "the doctor." That wasn't all, there was the piano that I would pretend to play, barbies from the 70s, and lots of dress-up clothes. I remember that their house always had a certain smell to it, I'm not sure exactly what it was. I catch that same smell here and there sometimes and I almost want to say that it smelled like brisket and the warmth of the people who once lived there. I'm sure that you can only imagine what that smells like. But to me it is part of the puzzle that is being pieced together as I grow older, and I hope not to lose these pieces as time moves on.

If you were to ask me my favorite time of day, it would not be a time exactly. It could be the time I have to myself, whether it's spent reading, writing, or even just bumming around at my own leisure. Or it could be the precious time spent with people who mean the most. The time when there is no urgency felt or rush to be somewhere. Now as for an actual time of day, I'd have to lean toward the evening. The soft murmur of the darkness outdoors entrances me, with its beckoning to join it. Come, return to nature, experience the stars, and the taste of wind, listen to the natural ampitheater of the nocturnal. Feel the wonder of discovery in the luminescent light of our moon, as she illuminates our sleeping minds.

Outside it is cold and grey as if the world has decided to go to sleep, lethargic drops of rain fall to the earth in a depressed haze, I can't help but wonder if this is actually a metaphor for how I feel.

Sometimes I get so sad I don't know what to do, I just want someone to share my life with but I don't want just anyone, I want this fantastic dream of a person that I've created in my head and i fear that they don't exist, the ones that I do meet that seem to fit this mold seem to be very transient people, but I feel that I've always sort of meant to be transient myself, I just haven't found a way to do that yet, the roots that I have are superficial all I really need to do is dig them up and begin my journey. I don't know what really holds me here, sometimes though, I think that I do...

What does the loss of another make us feel?
I think that it varies per each individual. How close were you to the one who has now gone on from here? The emotions evoked span many different avenues and intersections. For me this most recent loss has been another reality check on how mortal and precious we all are. It also causes me to think about how much time we waste on nonsense.
Now here's the real controversy, what do you believe? What happens when we die? The answer to this is that no one knows. So now you have the influence of belief entangled with the loss of a loved one. This can make things easier or it can make them worse. We all have our own ideas on what happens when you die. Where do we go? Do we cease to exist? Is there a heaven or a hell? Is there a God? These questions pass through our minds when death presents itself into our every day existence.
How truly sad it is that some believe that there is nothing after this life, because if there truly isn't, then what has been the purpose of our existence?