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The Art of the Sign

I've never really been an individual to truly, inadvertently believe in signs. I liked the idea of seeing things right after tragedy strikes and recognizing how those situations could relate somehow to what had occurred and presto!, a sign. Something/someone in this universe is giving me the notion that they, or whatever the situation may be, is going to be okay. Now, with this thought process forever living in the back of my mind, I've been searching for a sign these past few weeks and I believe I've received it.

This sign isn't necessarily related to the idea that my deceased loved one(s) are okay, because I know that both of them are at peace and no longer suffering in pain. My sign was relative to what I've been contemplating these last few months and have had difficulty deciding on even more with these past few weeks.

I have to write a book, or a compilation of short stories, but I want the book. I'm craving my ability to write a book and get its approval for my Master's degree. I'm craving the ability and, hopefully, future opportunity to get my future book published. It's been a dream. Lately, I've been contemplating dreams compared to reality and the hard reality is winning out.

A butterfly landed near me yesterday, and stayed for a few moments. Constant fluttering of its wings around my hands, my books, my blank pages, and surrounding me in a silent comfort, yet whispering, The world is truly your oyster.

My Uncle sent me a sign (and possibly even my Godfather) giving me a go-ahead for what is to come. My ideas were tumbling around in my head and this butterfly gave me comfort. This butterfly gave me an answer. My uncle gave me an answer.

And I'm responding, It's quite the catch.

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