It goes so deep – what I wish I had done for her, how much love was in me, searching for a way to show itself, instead of the annoyed 45 year old adolescent who turned up, again and again, to take her here or there on what I couldn’t permit myself to see were her inevitably numbered days.
So deep, in fact, that there is no cure for it but time and lacy wings of butterfly compassion. I hope, Barbara Anne Downtain, that this photo will suffice to show you what I had in mind.
what is beautiful remains 
Brenna, beautiful writing, almost seems like poetry. Left me wanting to know more so I shall be back. Amazing image.
nanette, thank you! i know you know…it feels so wonderful when the stream of consciousness makes it way out in a pleasing form, like something has really happened…
Beautifully written… you have left me wanting to know more about this story.
Vanessa – me, too! i don’t think i will ever get to the end of this story – that’s kind of how the blog started….