Beaches And Butterflies

Beaches and Butterflies. Summer nights and red wine. Green eyes. Laughing, dancing, talking, kissing. I'll miss them all. Life is full of surprises - or better yet, incidents - to remind us where we have been, and direct us where we are intended to be. We struggle through the hardest of times and can instantly be shot with something we never expected. Or maybe we did expect it, at some point, but just weren't quite ready when it came around. I thought my mind was flushed, but like a bolt of lightning I was flashed back to where I began - where I wanted to be. Granted, this time was easier by far, but still deeply painful. I suppose it was unavoidable, however I couldn't have prepared any worse. The visions of all I knew and loved came flowing like rapids through my head. I saw where I came from, where I was going, and most importantly where I wanted to be. My offer still stands, and it will remain for as long as I can hold out. Perhaps time will map our paths together again? When I said I'd wait it was an expression of love - but perhaps it could become a reality? I would give up still whatever was needed to do it again - even for the few short months it was. Fabulous evenings and mornings - days away and wasted nights. The memories will stay but the reality keeps fading. Day by day - flowing more apart with each hour. Soon to be on opposite ends for good, with no likely chance of becoming one again. I thank myself I had time alone, and I was stronger than in the past. I still question what, or who, steered us wrong. What would happen if it picked up where it left off? Could it be made into the glorious bond and power that it was intended to be? I don't like to say that all that was put in was for naught. Maybe grieving for months - years even - will indeed connect us again, and all in between will be forgotten. Fresh in my mind and rekindled in my heart. The flame had never died, only dimmed, but now it burns again, soon to be put out again I'm sure.

Hope is the last thing that dies in man; and though it be exceedingly deceitful, yet it is of this good use to us, that while we are traveling through life it conducts us in an easier and more pleasant way to our journey's end. -- François de la Rochefoucauld