Is it really fourteen if your sun is setting in a new place, having left the last gasp of what and sealed the deal on never, no never, being on your own again?

But this time last year, there I was, filled with hope, and not really knowing it, and everything new.

And now, now I can hold that hope in my arms and call him son, now I look out over a bright and hazy city and still more newness,

now, I wonder less what will become of me, but what He will become.

<<agé chose>>

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