I have a new student in my class today. Her name is Miley, Miley Stewart. She walked in dripping water from head to toe. Obviously, she hasn't gotten used to Seattle yet. One important rule, even if the sun is shining, it won't for long; Always carry an umbrella.

She handed me her papers and I read her name. "Class this is Miley Stewart." She cringed as everyone looked at her and if I had known it bothered her so much, I wouldn't have said anything.

I told her where she could sit and she sat there. I watched her carefully for a moment and I'm still, even now as I lay here next to my husband as he sleeps, am clueless as to why I was so…so…intrigued by her.

XxXx—XxXx----Xxxxx-----XxXxXxXxXxXx

Miley.

The new house is big and spacious. It has a lot of windows, very roomy. I'm not even sure if we have enough stuff to fill it. Maybe it'll be blank – like a canvas not yet touched by an artist's dirty paintbrush. That's how this house feels to me. It's blank, white.

There used to be pictures and paintings, artwork of mine and Jackson's that decorated the walls of our old home. They were painted with life and color and soul and love. And now – there is nothing but emptiness and silence. It echoes through me. I'm hollow, like a drum, my heart beating an unsteady rhythm inside of me.