 |
|
|
This is a harrowing story of a successful aneurysm surgery. It was thrilling read; at the end my heart was racing. At some point the surgeon asks, "How's he doing?" Someone replies, "Solid as a rock." If I were the doctor (presumably married) I'd say, "I have to talk to my wife." I'd tell her exactly how I was feeling, how lucky we all were, then she'd tell me that I was brilliant, I'd say that I can't wait to see her to just feel her alive in my arms (I nearly typed "alove"; I think that should be a word, like "aloft", "abroad" or "adrift" something that means "loved" or "experiencing love"). Later, at home, I'll be in the kitchen about to prepare dinner. She'll slide up behind me, touch my shoulders, and I'll turn around, put my hands around her waist, pull her close and get that hug I had been waiting all day for. I had a girlfriend (now just a friend) that gave the best hugs anyone could give. If she really cared about you, it would actually concentrate on you so much that a surge of warmth would carry through her chest into yours. It was a scientifically measurable change in energy that you could put a mathematical formula to. Some might say that quantifying love cheapens it; I disagree. I think it makes the intangible and undefinable, tangible and very definable. It allows some of those who can't quite get what you mean to finally understand. Besides, there is beauty in numbers and science, but's another entry. I wonder how the lives of the patient and his wife have changed. 0 scrawls at the end of this hallThe look: The feel: The taste: ________________________ |
The Latest
|