She had dark hair that waved gently to her shoulders. Dark, smiling eyes. What I loved most about her were her dark, strong eyebrows. They were eyebrows with character, attitude, strength...and they were so sexy on her. She had a deep voice. She was kind. I watched her constantly, drawn to her, unable to look away. When she wasn't around, there was an empty space and I watched until she was there again, and then things were right once more. She was beautiful. I was terrified of speaking to her, but one night, as we sat around a campfire singing, I somehow managed to sit next to her. Maybe the darkness gave me courage. She strummed on her guitar as her wonderful voice carried the tune, a song that I've remembered long after the others have slipped into oblivion. She turned and smiled at me as she sang; I felt so shy, but so, so happy. Just being near her was heaven.

I was 8, maybe 9 years old.

So...I was just told this morning, that the Women's Conference is this year. The women's conference is every other year. When I think about it, this is correct....but...what? Where did that extra year go? What did I do in that year? It's such a disorienting feeling.

Some of this is no doubt due to the concussion, but I was also having some memory issues prior to that.

And...this little bit of reading...this little bit of writing...I'm tired.