G is the word

 

Sign of the Times

Last Saturday, after dropping A at his hotel so he could rest a bit after his loooooong winded-epic-Amazing Race-like flight from Brisbane, I saw a black butterfly hover over me.

Right before I entered my building, I saw it. It came from nowhere.  It had huge wings, was black with white spots and seemed to just be happily fluttering about its own way.  It took me by surprise and stopped me in my tracks.  I mean the city is crazy polluted.  How did this black beauty survive the fumes?  I stared at it as long as I could before it flew away to oblivion.

It was a distinct reminder, of course.  Of who I should keep my gaze on, as I receive and explore this  grand gesture.  This one that just came out of the blue as well.

I am still wrapping my head around it  actually and I am frustrated with my heart because it seems to be way ahead of my head. Yet again. I watch it closely anyway. That it doesn’t get carried away. I have seen this happen many times. I do not want it to happen again.  Grand gesture or not.

I am humbled by his effort and amazed at the turn of events, but I continue to move by faith and not sight. To trust the new, not the old, script. To wait and see.  I wish to pay close attention to how the slow and sure functions because the fast and the furious, usually fizzles out after the high wears out.  It’s the same with recalling the different parts of an incoherent dream;  the details begin to slip away as you tell the story to someone.

Heart, please don’t lie.  Be smart though and keep your eye on the prize.

 

grateful slice:  grand gestures and butterflies in the city

 

 

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