An anniversary is a time to celebrate the joys of today, the memories of yesterday, and the hopes of tomorrow. ~Author Unknown

Now I'm older and twice as bolder
Listening to records by Noddy Holder
I love the dinner on Christmas Day evening
Turkey, bread sauce and Christmas pud steaming

Was this who I had become? It felt as if a bucket of cold water had washed over me, and I felt an ominous chill in my bones. I was crashing down from the high of revenge, and the pleasure I had felt moments ago had turned to disgust. He had gotten what he deserved, hadn’t he?

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that it was raining again. Third time in a week, not that I was complaining. There's a certain quality unique to the sound of falling rain; it has the ability to drown out the thoughts of others, no matter how loud they may be. On a rainy day, I wouldn't have to dread leaving my house, fearing that the sound would overwhelm me and force me to take refuge in some corner market, while passersby regarded me with something between concern and apprehension.

If my individual body parts could talk back
I would ask them for favors
I would tell them how good I've been to them
How carefully I've walked my life so as not to hurt them
I would remind my bones I've never broken them
And try not to see the accusing glare from my heart when I say that.

You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink,
You can educate empty minds – but that doesn't make them think,
Life's lessons aren't taught in a classroom – nor in any school,
The way most of us learn is by looking like a fool.

A plethora of global issues, such as the spread of Ebola, acceleration of global warming, and consumption of non-renewable resources, plague the globe. However, many Americans consider other issues more important, such as body image. Instead of researching vaccines, Americans research the latest diets. Instead of worrying about the enormous methane cloud over the United States, Americans worry about how "pretty" or "swole" they look.

It was 1960 in a small NSW country town, the main street was bustling with people. The boy clung to his mothers skirt as she maneuvered the perambulator through the people. Occasionally another lady, complete with hat and gloves, usually clutching a child or pram or both would stop, exchange pleasantries, kiss each other lightly on the cheek and proceed on their separate ways. On this occasion a middle age woman stopped, her face half hidden beneath a veil was pale, it's paleness exacerbated by heavily applied powder contrasting the rich red lipstick and rouge.

It was an old dirt road in the middle of nowhere. A dirt road that was made by us walking back and forth all of these years. It was a place that we had visited often, but not nearly enough. We spent countless days of our summer vacations there, swimming in the river that ran through the big meadow, swinging from the rope that you tied to the huge tree above.

I have no reason to complain
Everything's going at its own pace
There's just this one thing I can't contain
And that's this uncontrollable feeling when I see your face

An old Jimmy Stewart flick was playing on my flat screen when my empty stomach decided it was time to go downstairs to the Crow's Nest, a bar and grill situated one floor below me. I clicked the remote and watched the actors disappear in a sea of black screen As I plodded downstairs, the strong smell of cigarette smoke wafted up my nostrils. I coughed. Sal looked up and saw me entering from the stairwell.

"Hey Jim,' he said with a smile, waving with one hand, the other still wiping the bar. The source of the smoke hanging from his stiff lips.