On the bulletin board above my desk is a small map of the US, peppered with at least a dozen brightly colored straight pins. A green pin in my hometown. The same kind of pin used to cruelly hold the morbid beauty of mounted butterflies. Each pin represents someone so close to my heart yet so far away. Red pin in New York City. The distance seems so little on the map - only a few inches to the blue pin in California. But so many hours, miles in between. So many.