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This night is warm and windy. Though I'm tucked away in our dark living room, I like to imagine that there are clear, liquid stars overhead, barely stirred by a virgin summer breeze and dying to fall. In this sky stuffed with heat, the constellations seem to be melting. I'd love to see what star droplets look like. Would they drip through the Earth's crust like battery acid through paper? Would I be able to gaze at their glory long enough make a memory before my eyes burned away? Silly thoughts from a tongue tied dreamer.

I've been in dogged pursuit of what it means to be sensible. I heard once that men should be old when they're young and young when they're old. What I wouldn't give merit such a description when this corpse is hugged by the unfamiliar earth. Unfamiliar. What a world I've lived in these 21 years and yet I've only covered a pinprick of the area with feet too small for adventure. Still, I've never gotten used to this place. I pray to God that I never start to love this blue ball He's made for us. Though I'm thankful that He sparked it and spun it, I've daily been increasing in my jagged awareness that I'm a tenant. More and more, I feel like I've stumbled into a festival full of strangers and I'm not wearing a name tag. I pray that this sentiment doesn't shrink my compassion for those strangers. All the same, I'm thankful for this restless spirit. May God keep such venomous comfort as far from my shores as He wills.

Go Cardinals.

Your PB from J for today: "You get that from this grove, yes?"