Strange how these things happen, like over-exposed scenes from almost award winning movies.
Dry eyed, holding her, because this is what we do.
The idea that this is natural does not escape me. And it isn’t fear that seeps in between the cracks. Not yet, though I expect the time will come for that, too.
No, for now, I don’t know why the tears sometimes force themselves out, leak singly down my face.
Sometimes, there are blurred premonitions of what awaits us, but these are quickly painted over.

In the meantime, the world continues to roll on. The details of living are no less mundane for now being threatened.
There is a deep-seated sense of wonder, almost awe, at the inconsequential way these things happen.
There wasn’t even a soundtrack.