"My mother once wrote a poem about rivers. They were women, she wrote. Starting out small grls, tiny streams decorated with wild flowers. Then they were torrents, gouging paths through sheer granite, flinging themselves off cliffs, fearless and irrisistable. Later they grew fat and serviceable, broad slow curves carrying commerce and sewage. But in their unconscious depths, catfish gorged. Grew the size of barges. And in the hundred-year storms, they rose up, forgetting the promises they made, the wedding vows, and drowned everything for miles around. Finally they gave out, birth-emptied, malarial, into a fan of swamp that met the sea.
But this river was none of these things. It flowed serene and ignored, past spray painted fences and brick walls, alive despite everything, gaurding the secrets of survival. this river was a girl like me."
People call me Lizzie Bee
People call me Lizzie Bee. Southern California is where i call home and I have a family that I wouldn't trade for anything. Taken By A Good Man. Life is too short to not enjoy the beauty, comedy, sadness, love and righteousness that it holds. So here I share the things that mean something to me, in hopes they will mean something to you as well. Like OrangeSUnshine Blog on FACEBOOK for streaming updates: facebook.com/OrangeSUnshineBlog