Snowflakes gone astray

I had a subject all aligned for tonight's blog entry.  Actually, I had two.  It all changed when I stepped off the train on my way home from work.  I stepped off, took a few steps, and then was showered by snowflakes.  10 seconds later, they were all gone.  It's interesting because when it happened, I felt transported to a different place.  It was as quick as the blink of an eye, but for that brief moment, I felt surrounded by happiness and love.  Preston must have been there.  Those stranded snowflakes were his way of saying hello.

The train ride preceding this serendipitous event had been a nice one.  I heard several songs on Pandora which reminded of my son.  That hadn't happened in a while - several songs in a row that is.  What strikes me most is how often I hear Leona Lewis songs.  Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike her music or anything, but I don't have any of her songs on my iPod.  Yet, I hear "Happy", "Bleeding Love" and "Better in Time" all the time.  Is there a message there?  If you've read most of my blogs, you probably know that I don't throw the word happy around like I used to.  Since losing Preston though, that song has just reminded me of him every single time I heard it.  Of course, there are days where I just can't listen to it, but lately, it's gotten easier.

I heard two of these songs today.  It felt really nice because I felt like I was getting some a sign from my little boy.  They've been fewer and fewer.  It's a little scary to think about.  I don't want them to decrease or go away, but I don't really have a say in it.  Those songs today though, and the mysterious 10 seconds of snow falling on my nose.  It gave me hope, that perhaps those signs won't ever go away, as long as I'm open to seeing them.

I didn't get my wish of angel dust last night.  If I had dreams, I don't remember them.  I'm rather used to it.  However, I slept better than I had in a week.  Perhaps I did get a sprinkle of angel dust after all.  To my sweet Preston, thank you for the little visit, even if I could have easily missed it with the blink of an eye.  I hope you think of me as often as I think of you.