I find myself thinking of you at strange times, random times, although often (in hindsight) entirely appropriate times. You appear suddenly like a thunderstorm that blows across the prairie. Stirring everything around, a strong wind without warning blustering your way back into my thoughts, altering things, changing the terrain I had just gotten used to.

No, perhaps that's not entirely true. Recently, what was once your storm has become more of a warm wind - a welcome respite from stagnant air, still stirring things but in a much more pleasing manner. A warm breeze that lifts the instinctive smile to my face. That makes me at once wistful and filled with anticipation. Remembering before, wondering about later.

On those days, when the thoughts of you blow through my mind, your photograph often finds it's way from the album on the shelf to a more prominent point of display. Often you sit there on my bedside table while I settle in for the evening. It comforts me somehow. In a way reminiscent of being sixteen (it sometimes feels silly to have that photo there) but also like a familiar talisman, a touchstone, a piece of something that brings peace.

And my blustering storm of thought settles into peace.