time doesn't always heal: it just breathes and swallows memories like the seasons change - sending showers; beating flowers into the mud. and nothing is forever in this place. nothing but the way my heart fits in your hands; the held breath of hope; and the sweet lingering taste of grace. ("how blessed we are for crying now, for we will laugh someday…and how.") soundslikesunday 11 days till my sD anniversary