I read it--I love it--it is quite funny, honest, true and yet refreshingly holy, with no holes, and everyone gets what they get, when they get it--deserved--even the ghosts get a kind of justice in a world gone mad, that looks like ours--the people are real as can be, and think too much like we all think, on our best and worst days--at the end we know enough, but not too much--not so much about a place or an idea--we know a bit about the human heart, mind and soul, about ourselves, and yet we don't know too much--just enough thought, just enough reality--just enough injustice and mayhem to be true--just enough almost hidden grace and justice and mercy to make life worth living and eternity, whatever that is, worth checking out--in the right frame of mind this book could send you to the Blues, to The Beatles, to a counselor, to Church and a conversion experience. If you don't laugh out loud there is no hope for your life and I pity your children if you have any.

It was almost blue everywhere. I rolled over, more awake than I cared to be and the room was bathed in the murky greyish blue light. It was barely sun up. The colors would change within minutes and things would take on a more natural hue again. Somehow a return to "normalcy" actually seemed less comforting. Everything now was quiet and still like the tug-of-war between darkness and light had forced time to stand still until a victor was crowned for a new day.

Sarah let out a little sigh next to me. In the light her skin glowed with an incandescent shine. She still smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat and alcohol but I tried not to think about it. I glanced out the window and it appeared the daylight was slowly turning the tide of the battle. I looked back at Sarah, her shoulder blades seemed to rise and fall with her breath.

Regret is a horrible thing to feel in the morning--especially when it's following something so serene. If you could just capture an image and let it be what it was things would be a lot easier, but instead of being able to watch her sleep in the haze of early morning I started to put everything in context. How I had to hold her hair back again last night even after she said she was leaving. How many times she had swore she was leaving before passing out or vomiting.

Things were ending, it was clear. For all her bluster and clarity when she was drunk I knew it would end up being me who finally put an end to it all.

Maybe someday that moment will be able to live on its own like it did for those few bleary-eyed seconds. I guess that's what everyone hopes for: that eventually all that will be left will be a sense and an image. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. And you can't pick and choose as much as you want to.

I roll over as the light slowly washes away the blue into yellows and oranges as reality takes over again and time starts to move forward. I probably won't be able to get back to sleep now. I remember too much. I'm thinking too much. I think about getting up but just close my eyes and try to forget.