Loss Could Be Used As A Measure

He Had Been My Almost. My Might-have-been. I Was Afraid Of What I Wanted Most - His Kiss. Still, I Collected Kiss Stories. -susie Salmon

I Knew Something As I Watched: Almost Everyone Was Saying Goodbye To Me. I Was Becoming One Of The Many Little-girl-losts. They Would Go Back To Their Homes And Put Me To Rest, A Letter From The Past Never To Be Reopened Or Reread. And I Could Say Goodbye To Them, Wish Them Well, Bless Them Somehow For Their Good Thoughts. A Handshake In The Street, A Dropped Item Picked Up And Retrieved And Handed Back, Or A Friendly Wave From The Distant Window, A Nod, A Smile, A Moment When The Eyes Lock Over The Antics Of A Child.

She Liked To Imagine That When She Passed The World Looked After Her, But She Also Knew How Anonymous She Was.

I Missed Her Then But It Was An Odd Sort Of Missing Because By Then, I Knew The Meaning Of Forever.

There Wasn't A Lot Of Bullshit In My Heaven.