Look at your eyes - they're small in size, but they see enormous things.

While driving or riding in cars, my mind wanders of wonders. And it's on radiant days of spring, like today, traveling between my two homes, with my eyes squinting from the sun's rays and nothing but the sound of passing cars and an invigorating breeze on the highway, that I examine the farms and houses floating by. Emerald shades once again invade landscapes. Calves chase their mothers for milk to fill their awkward and growing bodies. Hardly graceful enough to run straight, I almost laugh out loud at an ebony one as it nearly topples to the ground in the distance.

It's days like these that I know.

It's times like these that my eyes are truly wide open, not simply absorbing. (The reflection back from these lazuline eyes is what most matters). I can feel joy overwhelming me. It's moments like these that cause a yearning, a desire to continue on the road forever, thinking and sorting. But mostly watching. No destination. It's moments like these, the tiny, insignificant moments, when I think so loudly to myself, almost so much that a whisper nearly creeps from my lips to say, "this is life."

But we all know that it is not. This is not living.

My mind drifts.

It's moments like these, going 65 as I inhale the wind; overwhelmed by the flourishing and blooming abundances of spring as my nose is tickled and I nearly sneeze, that I think to myself, "this is life." But then I think, "no, it's only a part, a moment."

One fleeting moment does not mean much in a universe that is timeless, but I would like to think so (and often do).

I see a lilac bush. "I hope they bloom soon." Lilacs are my favorite.

My mind wanders.

It's after moments like these that I think of the ones that I love, as I often do. I think of people from the past, and how I once knew them in such a great and deep context, but lost that. I think of the people that I now know, and how I wish I knew them in a greater depth and context than I do at this moment.

And it's after moments like these, and thoughts like those, that I become teary-eyed, and sometimes cry, as I often do.

This year was full of loss. I said goodbye to a few people that I loved. Some, forever. Others, metaphorically.

My grandpa passed on.

Her and I stopped talking.

He didn't want to be a part of my life.

She has someone to love and be loved by.

They moved on.

He is going away.

I say goodbye to 20 children on Thursday. They already have had parents and family members walk out of their lives. It's hard to do that to them myself.

And I worry about what will happen to them. I hope Aminat will be okay. I hope that I helped to change or shape their lives, or have made it better than it could have been had I not been in them these past seven months.

It's moments like these that I know that the meaning in my life, and likely the lives of others, is to love and be loved. Is there anything that causes more despair or fulfillment? And in these moments, I find myself in tears. Because I ache and long for so many people. And a worry fills me. The worry that I am replaceable in the lives of those that are irreplaceable to me.

I have not watched the sunset for quite some time. It's not the most brilliant one I have seen, but it's beautiful. The kind where the sky is a a shade of vanilla and the cottonball clouds have beams emanating from them. When I was little, I always used to think that sunbeams shooting from clouds in such a manner was a sort of holy sign; a sign of God.

My mind wanders again.

I miss living my life completely for others.

And it's days like these when I think of how much I love you. I think of how much I want to have you in my life, for its remainder. It's moments like these that I know that everything will work itself out. It's times like these that I want to share with you. Not just through phone calls and words and stories. But in your presence, showing you the view through my eyes and mind. It's in these fleeting moments that I realize that in all of the life's uncertainty, I want the certainty of knowing that I will always have a piece of you. You can be certain that you will always have a part of me. A greater part than you will ever know.

For me, loss is the hardest part of growing up. I don't like being left, but I will never choose leaving.

It is on days such as these that my head becomes clouded, then clears, much like the weather. I don't want to ache for you. I don't want to miss you anymore than I had to.

My eyes begin to water, but I'll blame it on the oak trees.

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