There Aren't Enough Words In The Dictionary...
It's nice down here. It's as quiet as quiet gets. The steady hum of the hot water heater. The rattling of the pipes. The creaking of wooden floors beneath tiny, invisible footsteps. I like that sound. Nothingness. I like it because it keeps the moment alive. Barely alive. Fizzling away like the last pixel of digital snow on an old black and white television, sucked into one minuscule dot. Gone. It's hard to write about my family these days. I want to. Trust me I do. I want you to know everything and nothing at the same time. The conversations with my daughters hang in the air, waiting to be captured and bottled like fireflies. The words fall into place like Tetris pieces. They are the blogs that write themselves but never get written. I don't want to fuck up the perfection, like a game of telephone. I don't want, "I love french toast" to become "I hate Donny Most". Tonight when I was putting my 8 year old daughter to sleep, we laid in bed togethe...