With the birth of so many ways to keep in touch, one would think the world should be better connected. Instead, it seems we've introduced yet another thing to consume our thoughts and time.
Old friends for whom we once spent hours hand writing letters are now but the click of an occasional mouse button, a quick hello, the momentary passing of an adorable picture to let someone know how much we're thinking of them. But this hardly expresses things for me.
I do think of you often. Moreso than you might think. On a daily basis, more thoughts than I could possibly keep track of pass through my mind. I prefer not to think of it as an attention disorder, rather a life so full of moments that I don't want to miss a single one. The problem for me is lack of time in which to do it all.
When I am in the garden, I think of sending you flowers. The look on your face when you come home to find a giant bouquet of Iris on the porch. The surprise you might feel when a surprise box arrives in the mail, not knowing what might be inside.
I may seem careless, thoughtless and aloof of your life, but this is not so. A failure to act on my thoughts, perhaps. We all have busy lives, we all have many things to tend to. We've all had our moments of sadness, happiness, joyfulness, sorrow. And I've not been there for you. At least not in the physical sense.
Know that I do think of you often, and I do care.
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