I envy you.

I wholeheartedly believe that what you are doing is absolutely beautiful: but I envy you. I suppose it's your freedom that I'm jealous of. I've always wanted the ability to just walk away for a while, and leave without having to explain myself or say goodbye. I have so many obligations, with so many people, that I can never just go when I want.

I remember when I was forced into a hiatus, and I think I was happier. Lonelier, of course, but so happy.

My problem is I have trouble letting go. I hold on too tight and for too long. I leave people with bruises, and my fingers are numb and broken. But my heart isn't as broken as I expected, I am filled with peace and serenity.

But I love how you fly, little bird. I wish I knew what type you were. I think you are a chickadee, tiny and easily forgotten by most people. But so beautiful, in all your fragility and kindness. You are misunderstood, little chickadee, like me.

Fly far and stay strong--keep your beak up and your feathers clean. You are wonderful in all that you are.

I'll wait for you, just like I promised. Perhaps when you return, you'll bring a taste of the fresh air I am deprived of.