I will have to drop by school next week to take my last "final exam", but between now and then, I will have more time to spend time with my family.

What does this mean? It means I am going home, you silly. :) Home! Yay! There's no place like home! :) I am happy! I just want to share my excitement with you. :)

This is for you: family, friends, and strangers. You have to see it, or you'll really miss out. ;)

Have a wonderful holiday!

As I sorted through a pile of letters this morning, I found one that was addressed to my younger brother. A huge grin appeared on my face when I noticed it was from Vienna; I figured that this was a letter from a girl that my brother met in elementary school. It was not the first time that they have written to each other. They are, after all, pen pals - although they exchanged letters infrequently. As I held the letter in my hand and examined the neat handwriting on the envelope, I couldn't help noticing that the envelope was unusually thin.

I placed the letter aside and went about doing my business. When my brother came home from work, I teased that he had a letter from a girl-friend. My brother opened the letter, read it, and then he said something that stopped me from writing my term paper in mid-sentence.

I did not think it was true, so I asked him for the letter. He handed it over to me, still with a look of shock on his face.

I read the letter and I went silent. What my brother said was true:

She. was. dead.

It was a letter from her mother. As I read the letter, I could not control the emotions raging within me. My eyes quickly brimmed with tears and I turned away from my brother. I held the letter tightly in my hands and I just kept reading and re-reading the letter. I didn't want to face my 16-year old brother. I didn't want to say anything, because I was afraid my voice would betray me. I fought back tears; I didn't want my brother to see me crying.

When I finally spoke, my voice was shaky. I was also obviously not strong enough, because I burst into tears. I cried. And I cried openly.

My older sister walked in then and my brother informed her of the news. She harmlessly commented, "Why are you crying? You don't even know her!"

It is true. She was my brother's classmate. And yet, I have always felt that I knew her because my brother had always shared with me the letters that she had written. As young as she was, I have always admired her letters because they were beautiful - each written with genuine feelings.

I ...I am just sad that the world will never get the chance to meet this very special person, whose writings touched even the lives of people she didn't even know...

On an early friday morning last week, the city was enshroulded in a cloud of mist. The fog blurred everything, leaving only faded outlines of things for us to distinguish from a distance. As my group and I walked toward a local school for our weekly America Reads sessions, I saw the faded outline of an American flag waving proudly outside the entrance. I have always noticed it before, but this time, the flag - with the help of the wind - seemed to be defiantly claiming its presence under the heavy fog.

I paused for a moment, lost in thoughts about the history of America. I have not taken a history course in college (AP credits), but I still remembered much of it from AP U.S and European history studied in high school. Granted, America has its wrongdoings (i.e. slavery), but it has also come a long way in its short history. Every time I look at an American flag, it inevitably reminds me about the many brave men and women who lost their lives fighting for the just causes of America.

I peered at my fellow America Reads coaches who were walking quietly beside me, and for a moment, I wondered if they might be thinking the same thing that I am. With voices and laughter of young kids in the distant background, I looked at the flag one last time, quietly saluted it, and disappeared into the building.