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Dec. 3rd, 2003 11:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sereneFrom ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkest_eve:
1. Tell me where you are, and what the weather is like today.
I'm at work, on the San Diego bay, and I haven't been outside since 5:45 this morning, so I have no idea what the weather is like. Hold on, I'll check.
Mmmm, sunny with a cool breeze, and a powerboat passing under the bridge. Lovely.
2. Tell me one thing you want/covet/desire for Xmas, no matter how silly it is - in fact, the sillier, the better! :)
I don't want anything. Honest. Is that silly enough? The only thing I've even gone "ooh!" at lately is the West Wing DVDs.
3. Tell me a story, in 5 sentences or less.
She fell on her knees that last time. Her meandering had lost purpose for months, and Brett and I had wondered how much longer Ella would be able to walk on her own. When we were children, she had traveled the streets of this small town, from her home to the town center and back, several times a day. Now she was there, in the front yard by the wisteria, too proud to do anything but pretend she was on her knees on purpose. Brett and I looked at each other for an instant, silently acknowledging the goodbyes that time brings, and went to help her up.
darkest_eve:1. Tell me where you are, and what the weather is like today.
I'm at work, on the San Diego bay, and I haven't been outside since 5:45 this morning, so I have no idea what the weather is like. Hold on, I'll check.
Mmmm, sunny with a cool breeze, and a powerboat passing under the bridge. Lovely.
2. Tell me one thing you want/covet/desire for Xmas, no matter how silly it is - in fact, the sillier, the better! :)
I don't want anything. Honest. Is that silly enough? The only thing I've even gone "ooh!" at lately is the West Wing DVDs.
3. Tell me a story, in 5 sentences or less.
She fell on her knees that last time. Her meandering had lost purpose for months, and Brett and I had wondered how much longer Ella would be able to walk on her own. When we were children, she had traveled the streets of this small town, from her home to the town center and back, several times a day. Now she was there, in the front yard by the wisteria, too proud to do anything but pretend she was on her knees on purpose. Brett and I looked at each other for an instant, silently acknowledging the goodbyes that time brings, and went to help her up.