Where Butterflies Wander

by Suzanne Redfearn

“Television rots the mind and turns a brain to cheese until a person cannot think but only see.”

I’d drowned with her and only my body continued to live on.

it takes enormous effort, each breath, each step. But I will do it, an inch or a millimeter at a time.

Loss is personal and belongs solely to the person experiencing it.

someone I loved was suffering and I didn’t sense a thing.

I’ve found saying nothing is often far more effective than haranguing.

Bee. I went to sleep exhausted but also relieved. Somehow we made it through. Two months ago, I don’t know if I’d have been able to get out of bed. Slowly, impossible as it once seemed, we are healing. My journey is slower than the others’, but the sticky gauze that has enveloped me since Bee’s death is not thick as it once was and, at moments, even loosens enough for thin rays of brightness to break through.

Faces change, but eyes remain the window to the soul.