My mom thinks that she and I should write a book together on the subject of people and the stories that they have to tell. Everybody Has a Story. In 2002, Miles wanted me to write on the subject of the dichotomy of a relationship moving from long distance into close proximity.

His proposed title held marginally less romanticism: Your Weird Bump and My Flat Feet.

[And just for the record, I am the one with flat feet.]

During my three-month sojourn in Wisconsin, I fell in love. My feelings were not kept secret. So many knew how I felt. Miles knows, too. He's ok with it.

Kashi Honey Almond Flax granola bars.

And I can't find them here. I found them well enough in DeForest's little Schultz's Market, but not in their bigger chain grocery store. And worse, I haven't found them anywhere here. Boo.

My mommy bought me a package of them before I left, and I have one bar left. I've supplemented my fibery granola-y stash with some honeyed fare from All-Bran, but it just isn't the same. I'm saving that last bar until the day that I just really need it. A day when I just can't get the clouds to part or the sun to shine. The heartache is nearly more than I can bear.

Is it truly better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? Right now, I just can't say. *sniff*