It’s a beautiful day and so is she.

I watch as she stops, and turns her gaze to the sky. Slowly, and with great effort, she spreads her arms and spins around and around and around until her abstract world becomes a blur of dazzling blue.

There’s this sky she likes.

I watch as the effort drains her body and she falls into her favourite bench, collecting her breath. Her brow furrows with the tumbling thoughts inside her head. I sit beside her, and my heart sinks as she shuffles away from me. I know she means nothing by it, but it hurts all the same. Never again will she understand how much she means to me. No one can fix her broken wings.

I take her in. Even now she is breathtaking. Her soft hair sits gracefully on her bare shoulders, the amber colour bringing out the green in her eyes. Her lips form words that forever go unspoken and her eyes dart madly around, following her spinning world.

She sits quietly watching a butterfly, like she’s got all the time in the world. She’s good like that, never in a hurry. I suppose it’s because she’s got nowhere to be, no one to see. The thorns of her tangled world drove everyone away.

She always liked the outdoors, even before. Now it comforts her. I watch the tension flow from her in a contented sigh. Her frail hands sit calmly in her lap, instead of churning as they do so often these days.

I remember the days when we would picnic together by the lake. And that rose colored dress that she loved so much. I remember how she used to run in that crazy way of hers, when I chased her. And the way she squealed when I would catch her, as I always did. I remember the countless late night phone calls that kept me going through the working months. I remember the way her tears would sparkle on her cheeks, so that even as she cried the world grew brighter.

I remember, but she doesn’t.

She fell, just once, but that’s all it took. She slipped, and so did her world.

They told me she was gone, to move on, to leave her. I couldn’t, I never could. Even now she brings a brightness into my life that they will never understand. Useless, they called her. The knots in her reality formed an impenetrable web to everyone but those determined enough to stay.

So she ends up here, with me, in her favourite park on her favourite bench watching a butterfly as it flies away. Up and up it goes, slipping further and further away from my reach, until it can no longer be seen. But she continues to stare, so fixated. I can only guess what she sees.

Fly away, my love.

She stands and I follow, taking her arm as we head for home.

It’s a beautiful day and I love her.