It's funny, how you can miss a person so very much that it sometimes seems to taint your days and nights, and yet at the same time be in many ways happier than you have been in years, if ever. I should get rid of the you and lay claim to the I in all of this. I miss Chris enormously, even after more than a quarter of a year, and yet today, on this second day of May, the world seems brighter than it has in much longer even than that. I've been reading more, and writing more, and spending more time on my own, and oh so slowly beginning to discern more intricate knitting patterns, and spending more time with friends, and, after indulging in a digital camera last week, taking pictures of the things and the people that I love. There is a certain power in all of this, in learning to cherish the time I have alone; in relearning how to be a friend fully and entirely on my own terms and not as a couple, as only one half of a pair, half of a whole; in carrying around my very own camera and, however slowly, learning to look at this world around me and truly see beauty in it, in a street sign, in a dead tree, in the evening light on a building, in a flowering geranium, in the warm faces of people dear and close to my heart. There is a certain sense of solidity, of an internal balance, that I, in some ways, am discovering for the first time and am growing to love.