Like the moment you see flowers waiting for you on your doorstep,

the best things in life aren't things at all.

who cares what kind of flowers they are; someone cared enough to put them there

I have blogged again and again about my search for the "best things" in life. It dawned on me tonight, finally, that this is a most foolish endeavor. I prize no possession more than the memories that I hold in my head. Moments of understanding or fear or elation; the most intimate and outrageous experiences; surprising and inexplicable feelings; interactions with unforgettable people. The events and relationships that, over the course of twenty years, have stayed with me through everything.


And THAT, dear friends, is the stuff that's worth writing about.