buh'flies

It's one of those moments in life where you sit back and marvel at the world. I watched a butterfly drift across my path, and followed it to where it landed, only to find myself surrounded by a whirl of orange and black winged bodies. They flitted about from blossom to blossom on the clustered bush. Each seemed no more perturbed by my presence than they were by the flowers on the bush. A few small soft wings brushed my face and fingertips as I stood there in fascination, watching the butterflies on that bit of shubbery.

I thought about a lot of things in that moment, like the fact that I still say "Buh'fly" when I see butterflies, just like I did as a little boy. I like the way buh'fly sounds better anyways. It's softer and describes them better, I think.

I thought about my weekend, and all the soft kisses that were traded. I thought about how much love I can feel for one person, and how much it can tear me apart. I think that's why I'm so terrified of it. I think that's why I don't attach myself too strongly to most people.

I thought about how I cried the first time my mom explained to me that I was killing the butterflies by catching them so I could hold them for a bit. I thought about how I told my love that story, and she just smiled at me. I thought about how she always smiles at me like that even at the most random moments.

I thought about how it rained this morning, and how, even as I drove away, I didn't feel that awful lonely ache inside me I usually do at the end of a weekend with her. I wondered why that was... but I think I figured it out too... I love her. Nothing changes that, not distance, not time, not anything. Remarkable though it may seem, I'm okay with things as they are. It's only temporary, and I have a lifetime yet to spend with her. If I can't live without her for only a little while, then what will the world be like when she's gone from it? Sigh.

I don't want to think that far ahead though. I hate thinking about that... about getting old and being alone... I hate thinking about how cold the world will seem if we ever do get married and if she were to die before me.

But the butterflies don't care-they're beautiful and sublimely ignorant of their short life span. Maybe they are aware of it, but they just don't care because the world is there and so they have to make the most of it while they can. I guess that's what I took away from all my thinking and watching the buh'flies... I have to make the most of this life while I can-because it's there and it's mine.