I started writing again.
“I wanted to stay,
I wanted to play,
I wanted to love you…”
One of my favorite songs of all time. And my absolute favorite live recording of this one.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.
Dear Mrs. Reagan
And you are Mrs. Reagan because Mr. Reagan loves you with all his heart. Every time Mr. Reagan sees the evening star or blows out the birthday candles or gets the big end of the wishbone he thinks the same wish—a prayer really—that so much happiness will go on and somehow be deserved by him.
It is true sometimes that Mr. Reagan loses his temper and slams a door but that’s because he can’t cry or stamp his foot—(he isn’t really the type.) But mad or glad Mr. Reagan is head over heels in love with Mrs. Reagan and can’t even imagine a world without her—
He loves her