Love.

I know exactly what love is. Love is white sand against an army of waves...on a Tuesday in March. Love is being wherever you want to be, whenever you want to be there. No permission slips, no calling in to work, no guilt, no apologies. When you can begin your days with praise instead of pains shooting through the center of your skull and when passion begins to pay the bills, love is present. Blue beach houses on the North Carolina coast, protected by white picket fences and sea gulls are more precious than gold to me. Stilettos that still smell like the shoe store three years later,with polka dotted bows just above the elegant peek toe, cause me to forget every ailment I've ever known. Holding my little brother's hand as we cross the street in pursuit of the best seats in the movie theatre is the only sensation that surpasses orgasm. Love makes pain look like a grain of sand next to an Egyptian pyramid.

I know exactly what love is. Love is slow dancing at 10am on a Wednesday while the rest of the world rushes toward deadlines, conference calls, and, ultimately, depression. Love is playing your favorite song on repeat until the lyrics are imprinted on the walls of your heart. Knowing that comforting arms wrapping around your sadness will heal even the deepest of regrets. That's love. Waking up next to your destiny-the one person who will never remind you of all that you aren't. That's love. Love is the medicine that most people spend a life time trying to find. Most, eventually, stop searching and indulge greed, hate, prejudice, bitterness, and loneliness instead.

I know exactly what love is. Love is believing in something in spite of everyone and everything that has made you feel like a fool. Finding the strength to join one more club, go to one more networking dinner, print just one more flyer, write one more business plan, apply to one more part-time job just to pay for one more certification/degree. That's love. Raising a child and forfeiting every desire you've ever had in order to put food in a mouth that may grow up, leave home and never say "thank you". That's love.

I know exactly what love is.

Why Do The Good Die Young?

The good die young because the bad kill them off. I'm sure of it. I've seen so many strong, capable, sincere individuals work themselves to death for a paycheck that barely covers basic necessities. And, all the while, the big bad boss is sitting comfortably on a few million dollars/acres and devilishly grinning as the slaves- I mean employees-build a powerful empire with no suitable compensation.

I've watched a woman that I respect very much work herself to damn-near-death for almost 25 years in order to put food on the table and clothes on our backs. I've watched her smile through the exhaustion, the illness, and the ailments as she dresses for another day of tormentuous labor. And each time I've watched silently, I've died just a little more inside. Because this woman, this angel on earth, deserves to have the stars at her feet. She deserves to rest in a garden of roses while having customized pedicures provided for her each morning at 10. She deserves to wear silk gowns at all times, even in the bathtub. Seriously. Though she's my mother and have a bias, I know that she is one of the most beautiful people on this planet and I am livid. I am so far beyond angry. She, as well as all the other good and worthy people in this world, deserve so much more than long hours and aching bodies.

There is a woman who owns a restaurant here in town. She's Satan's niece. The servers who work for her are some of the most talented individuals in North Carolina, maybe in the country. They're paid minimum wage and treated like animals. The owner has so much money that she's obviously immune to conditions like, oh I dunno, POVERTY or HUNGER or FINANCIAL BURDEN. She has an evil yellow grin and she smiles every time she has the opportunity to do something wicked. She doesn't deserve to own the place. She doesn't deserve to have toes. Yet, and still, she goes home to a big house and a 72k luxury car that ugly people shouldn't be allowed to drive.

And all I'm asking is, WHERE IS MY MOTHER'S LUXURY CAR? This is my dilemma. I want the good to have good and I want the bad to have nothing. But that's not how this world works. That's not the way this life will be so I might as well get my head out of the clouds now. Right?

Wrong. I intend to do something about it. I'm not sure what and I'm not sure when...but I refuse to watch every good person I know suffer until they shrivel up and die. My mother may not know how much I love her and how much I'd love to pull the moon out of the sky and offer it to her as a pillow...but one day, I swear on all that is good, she will have the opportunity to rest-really rest. She will know what its like to not have another bill to pay. She will wake up in the mornings without aches in her body. I promise. And if I cannot make her life more comfortable, like all the other good youngsters that die, I too will die trying.