To Grips

When I press my head to her chest she provides the simple beat of her heart to measure time. With each pulsation I’m reminded that what I’m doing matters.  I'm where I should be, my conviction strengthens.

Having once inhabited my body, I know that part of Celia will always live within me.  We're bound forever by life’s unfortunate affinity to pair the penalty of coincidence with love of a life-altering magnitude.  There may be a place deep inside my cells where memories reside, a place for today's struggles to become tomorrow's nostalgia. And at that level, far beneath conscious thought, a place she'll always, always be. 

When I cover her thin hand with mine, I hope to feel the blood running below her pale skin. I rub my thumb over the soft lines of her palm, stroking into her grasp an apology for her fate and a gentle goodnight.

JEB