"I'm worried I'm always in love."

Well, not really. I just really like that song and it seemed appropriate: I was thinking before about how often I say I'm in love - and how often it's true.

Andy was their easy going child. He...called on his cell whenever he was eating a really great meal or looking at something beautiful. In Andy's life these things happened frequently. "The most amazing sunset!" he would say. "The most amazing tapas!"

That's basically me. I used to wonder how I could love so many things so much. Now I just enjoy it. I get that precise thrill of discovery and wonder on a regular basis from so many things, both mundane and extraordinary. But that's just it - to me, it's all extraordinary. Even if it is, at times, painful, as only this kind of staggering awe can be. And like Andy, I always want to share it - usually, unfortunately, with people who aren't there. Isn't that what it's all about though? Falling in love with the small, exquisite moments and sharing them, connecting over them. A line in a song, the way a cloud reveals the sun, the way a certain painting looks. I've fallen in love with them all, shared them all.

I just miss having someone to share them all with.

And having someone who shares theirs with me.

In that sense, it's easier to choose to be alone than it is to be surrounded by people who I can't share things with. To wander a museum, to watch the sunrise, to admire architecture, to observe the way the wind moves tree branches - it's so much easier to do these things alone than it is to try to do these them with people who can't understand or appreciate the way I see them.

In isolating myself like that, though, I find myself not giving people a chance. I don't let them try to see what I see, or even to try to see it their way. Like cauterizing a wound before anything else can infect - or help heal. I'm so clumsy at communicating anything, I get into a funk and feel like there's no point in trying. I hate that. I'm trying not to do that.

The absolute worst, though, are the empty days that I don't get that thrill at all.

I'm trying so hard not to have any of those. When I do have them, it's my fault for not having the gumption or the sense of humor to see the beauty that can always be found.