passages of the heart…

This morning there is a quiet hum in the house. Most people would say, “Oh, yes.  It’s the dryer, air conditioner, and the soft swishing of the fans.” But they would be wrong.

This morning the hum is my heart.  It’s singing like a spring bird.  It’s because my daughter is asleep in the next room.  All six feet of her is curled around her pillow, feet sticking out like they have since she was a baby, hair tangled as if it’s been blowing in the wind all night, hands twitching while she dreams about