Sometimes at night when I can’t sleep, I count the number of hearts beating under my roof. A few nights ago, 2AM, I tallied ten. I include daughters, boyfriends, dogs, the cat, and should probably add one or two more for whatever is scurrying around in the attic. It’s coronary calculus, the mathematical study of continuous change. It won’t be long until there are only two or three hearts galloping under my middle-of-the-night roof. Until then, I console my sleepless mind picturing blood swishing through our aortas at 3 o’clock in the morning, a miracle that happens without us even trying– like dreams, like the coming sunrise.
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