Flutters of feelings, wisps of butterfly wings, pitters of a heart…but yet I hold my breath because if I’m really honest, I’m afraid its all too fragile and I’ll breathe out and break it.

I almost have the compulsion to take it deep within my heart, and bury it like a seed. A little tiny seed, that I can close my eyes and imagine it growing. Pushing it deep into the cool earth, desperately trying not to over water it, not to under water it, not to scorch it by the sun.

Smiling, I would sit next to the pot everyday. I would read to the dirt. Maybe looking like and idiot, but feeling elated. Reading stories to the little seed that I knew was deeply in the soil, toiling away. I would sit and stare until I could see the little green arms reaching for the sun. And the day that the tiny pink petals made their way to this great world, gasping in their first breaths of open skies and cloudless wonder – I would want to be there with my camera, taking photos like a mother with her first born child. I would want to post them all over every website I could log into. I would bore people with my detailed explanations of how the pink petals came first, and then we realized that there were little yellow centers – “And we were so shocked because we thought the centers would be purple!”

Then I laugh out loud. Listen to me – I’m ridiculous! Babbling about a plant that doesn’t exist. And taking pictures of a metaphorical seed? I’m clearly retarded. There isn’t a plant. There isn’t a pot of soil. There isn’t even a seed.

There are just little flutters of feelings and wisps of butterfly wings. And I hold my breath because I know how fragile they are. I know that one day you can wake up, and it will be all but gone. But somehow this time, I don’t want them to be gone. I beg for them to stay long enough to even think that they are real. I think that if there is even one ounce of beauty and justice in the world, they would not disintegrate. They would be here when I am ushered into a quarter of a century, I can know that there is some gorgeous purity to the whole thing.

Until then I suppose, hold my breath because if I’m really honest, I’m afraid its all too fragile and I’ll breathe out and break it.