My eyes are swollen.
One more day to love them.
One more day to wrap my hope around them.
One more day to wonder if I said enough, did enough, loved well enough…
Not even a whole day–a couple hours of ceremonial sterility, a few stollen moments in a crowd of well-wishers, febrile arms and hollow words.
My goodnight prayer was soft tonight. I sat on her bed in her empty dorm room and tried to wrap my voice around the thoughts my mind failed to unravel. I felt her tears on my bare forearm as I prayed. They fell in rhythmic mourning, ticking restless time away. My own tears drowned my words. I hope she heard my heart.
The others offered shell-shocked, weary hugs as I gathered my poise and sighed toward home. I love them. Have I mentioned that?
Crowded into a photo booth on Monday–our final trip to Basel
How blessed are we who witness this eclosion.
I love them. Have I mentioned that?