She runs to the oceanlike she is meeting an old friend;Troubles spilling from her like teaas she dashes to the waterline, digging bare toes into wet sand and laughing as gentle wavelets and pillows of seafoamlick at her ankles in welcome.…
Last night before bed, she asked me to listen to her heart, and I didn’t think twice about it. But as I put my ear to her chest, and heard a gentle whooshing that I’ve never heard before, it hit me stronger than ever that barring a miracle, heart surgery is imminent. It won’t be tomorrow, but it is coming…and the fact that her doctors can’t give us a timeframe (months, a year, or years) makes it all the more…