Below the surface stream, shallow and light,
Of what we say we feel-below the stream,
of what we think we feel, there flows
With noiseless current, strong, obscure and deep,
The central stream of what we feel indeed. __Matthew Arnold
In some of my other journals seems what I’ve been writing about lately is just feelings. Carol Burnette’s singing feelings, Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, feeeeelings. I look at this picture of Selena and me, and many feelings from childhood come back to me. Selena was always pretty true to hers. If she was mad, she showed it, if she was happy she showed it. She was alive and we loved being around her when she was little. I think she loved being around us as well. Most of my memories are her with joining in on my adventures with my sisters, Sherry and Dena. I remember her having muscles bigger than mine. She’s still solid. I remember our little funerals we had for birds in Nana’s back yard. All the Firecrackers we’d set off on July 4th. I remember her being attacked by a dog. I knew how she felt because I'd been attacked by a dog also when I was little. We both still loved animals even after the attacks. She stayed with us a lot growing up and with my Nana because her parents were in Germany a lot in the Army.