She was not a miracle,she was not an adventure She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl. I don't cry as much as I mean to, It's a weakness. There's nothing more soothing than to turn the lights off,and in the stillness and the darkness,bawl your head off. Dry up the wells of tears,the wells of emotions.Both good and bad. And with the sole company of your thoughts,reassure yourself back to safety,reassure yourself back to comfort,back to 'keeping it together. Then after this your self medication,stare out into the bleakness,make out shadows in the abyss of night,spin a little humor into that which clouded your day,Sigh or just think of the 'perhaps',the possibility that the next day might bring. Ah,the sun will come out tomorrow,and that blissful tomorrow was only one dark and lonely night away. And then your thoughts put down your healed and heavy laden self to sleep.A hopeful sleep, the kind Annie experienced everyday in...