Butterflies Are Free

So there are these butterflies just flitting about in my back yard.

Yes, flitting, though at first I thought they were just small quiet birds. But when they would sit still for more than two seconds, the dull gray-brown of their outer wings would give way to brilliant orange and purple patterns that made my heart stop. I would stare and not breathe in hopes they would stay open-winged, but of course they wouldn't--that is not the butterfly way.

This morning I was outside watching them and smoking, lost in the morning fog of no-thought, when I looked down and saw one just sitting on my chest (that's a euphemism for "bosom"). I was so startled I let out a yelp and blew on it so it would fly away. Then I laughed, partly because of my reaction, but also out of sheer delight to have had something wild and beautiful choose to touch me if just for a few seconds.

Now I stand outside for the longest time and pay the closest attention and not one of the butterflies will come near me. And I think about emotional connection and friendship and how I'm always seeking one and running from the other.

I live a quiet life. I mostly like it that way. Sometimes though, it feels more like suffocating isolation, and I live for those brief moments when I'm not paying attention and something beautiful dares to touch me. I only fear I will continue to startle myself out of allowing the contact to remain too long.

I don't quite know what I'm trying to say, except this: There are people in my life who are important to me and I'm smart enough to let them know. This isn't about them, but about the rest of you who are wild and beautiful and were maybe in my life for too brief a time and--for reasons too ridiculously moronic to get into right now--I didn't let you know how much it meant. I didn't laugh with delight at your presence. Or maybe I did, but you thought I was just laughing at that stupid joke you told, or something (I'm now realizing how difficult it is to talk to a collective you and remain purposefully vague).

And maybe you're one of those you's reading right now and thinking, "Well, this isn't about me." Trust me, it probably is. And I was a fool to not let you know before now.