At her funeral, a white butterfly fluttered through the church on a summer breeze. Words were spoken, and many tears were shed, but over time the memories have faded. Some memories at least. This one though, that flitting movement of a silent dream making its way to a temporary resting place stays with me. Our little white friend landed on the coffin that day and stretched its wings, soon to be off to its next destination.

Seasons come and seasons…

Making friends is hard. Opening your inner self to others is harder, yet it's a necessity to form the type of meaningful bond required to make a friendship really stick. The folks we come across on our journey through our short time on this spinning ball of confusion feed our spirit and help us to get through our lives, and finding time to speak to the few true friends we have doesn't come naturally for some of us. Personally, I…