It's been years since I've seen you. I wonder how you made life happen and if it worked out for you the way you'd planned... In your unplanned way. I catch glimpses of you in my travels. Your little swagger or the way you run in the rain. It's never you, but the fear and the hope that it might, could be, you, collide. Emotions that I wish I could escape... Move away from. Or closer to. I'm not sure which.
The trepidation of confrontation.
But I pray you are well. And good. And true.