Nearly five miles into a Smoky Mountain hike, with family vacation nearing a close, we discussed the next time we would see each other. As we did, a rain-fed stream cascaded beneath the short, wooden footbridge on which we paused to admire butterflies swirling, dancing and darting in a half-dozen hues.
One year after my wife moved 800 miles east for a great opportunity with her long-time employer, we planned our next moments together. The butterflies’ delightful interaction drew som…
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It is bad luck to be superstitious. – Andrew W. Mathis
csm 1 2015-07-04 10:05:04.00