Look at the Icicle.
An ugly mass drooping from a cragged rock, the water
hardening before it has sufficient time to
I've heard them called things of beauty by others, and
indeed I once thought of them as such.
But after today...
My father called me to tell
me that my Nine Year old bother has lukemia.
I cried for hours.
Today I found out that he is going to be alright, though he
will participate in outpatient treatment for three years.
I cried again.
And as I drove home from Dornbecher's childrens hospital this afternoon, I
saw the Icicles hanging from the rocks hidden in the shade.
I cried some more.
I love my brother Sean.