Footsteps in the Sand

And sometimes you notice someone walking beside you. You look to see them, but somehow, all you see is what they've left behind. Imprints in the sand, a little reminder that you've never been alone.

A little reminder. I like those. I love giving little reminders to people. And boy do I love recieving them. Nothing big mind you; a post-it that says "You're special," a card that reads "I love you." Even an e-mail, just to let you know you're in people's thoughts.

I havent listened to Kelly Clarkson in a while. I grew away from the CD once it stopped perfectly fitting with what I felt. I guess that means I'm healing. It's so odd you know, to have him finally beginning to think in ways that I've been thinking all along. And even still, I seem to grasp the fact that what is to come is a mystery so much better than he does. I wish I could track down some envelopes. And stamps. I keep seeing a few on Tyler's desk, but it would be so cruel to claim them as my own. I feel as though I may have to tread softly in his wake for a while. Just a hunch.

What part of our brains causes us to question? I wish I could find some answers. I feel like I have this vast amount of knowledge, but it's all contained in a seive, slowly falling through before I can manage to use it all. And with each unanswered question, more and more falls away from my grasp. Why is it that some people can see the world in such bright lights, and others see only the practical? Is it really fair to judge whose view is correct?

Im still dancing with that butterfly, still being patient, waiting for it to come to me instead of reaching out to grab it. In time, I know it will fly this way. For now, I am simply astounded by the flutter of its wings.