I am not plain, or average or - God forbid - vanilla. I am peanut butter rocky road with multicolored sprinkles, hot fudge and a cherry on top.

The thing about leaving something behind for the last time is that you rarely realize you're doing it.

Maybe some things aren't meant to be known. maybe there just meant to be accepted.

Whoa!" she says as I plow into her. " What are you DOING? Get off me!" I hang on tight. "Can't a girl just hug her big sister?" She stops fighting me. "Are you dying? Am I dying? Did Grandma die? I laugh. "No one died." "Then get off!

You take the flotsam," I tell her, "I'll take the jetsam." You always get the jetsam,"she says pretending to pout. "Do you ever think if poeple heard our conversations they'd lock us up?" All the time.

Just as I suspected, my room does look different, post-eclipse. It looks smalled, like it can't contain me anymore. After all, I've got a whole new world to see.

And when he [the author of the universe] had compounded the whole, he divided it up into as many souls as there are stars, and allotted each soul to a star. And mounting them on their stars, as if on chariots, he showed them the nature of the universe and told them the laws of their destiny. - "Timaeus" by Plato 427-347 B.C.