reflected butterfly

The sun shines into my new office in the afternoon and I notice as I
twist in my ergonomically correct chair that the shape of a butterfly
is reflected off the metal back support onto the wall. My new office
succulent is already dying. I never have done well by these plants
and I wonder why I let myself buy another. The world map tacked to the
wall has already faded into the background of what I notice... as has
everything else. I no longer turn desperately out of supermarkets
upon entering them... necessity has forced her hand. Old office
trinkets have found their places, marked their spots in the
accumulating dust. So I guess it's good that I notice things like
imagined butterflies... well maybe it's a horse now... trotting back
and forth across the corner of the room.

And I'm here. Sometimes I let myself think about that sliding door
twist of fate that sent the alternate me on another path. That me that
stayed in Italy and let her children delve deeper into childhood
friendships and cement their standings in the Italian elementary school.
That me who savored the sight of rusty iron work over large double
doors, the sound of footsteps on marble sidewalks and how many fossils
she could spot in the stone on her walk to the school. And then I
can't breathe and burst into tears at what I have lost.

But if I don't let myself think too deeply I can see what I have
gained. What was that again? The ability to feel truly alien in the
country I've lived all my life? Yea, there's something more to it
that I just can't wrap words around at the moment. Thoughts as
fleeting as reflections, changed, and now gone.