It is in the eyes of those that love us most where we allow ourselves to break down.
Most of us have experienced it: a look, a touch, a text. It’s not what it says; it’s who it’s from.
That’s all it takes. The dam breaks, the flood finally wins.
We compartmentalize so well that we often forget — try to forget, WORK to forget! — that the water’s rising, been rising, and won’t stop rising as the wind whistles and howls.
We’ve perfected the art of fooling ourselves, of building fortresses.
Thankfully, our friends, our family, our angels can see over the walls, past our facade with its carefully placed bricks.
Armed with nothing but the knowledge of the labyrinth to our own delicate heart, they can get inside, widen the cracks, and free the storm before it destroys us.
The greatest flood, the blackest night hasn’t the slightest chance of taking us down because we, the most tender and frightened of species, have the courage to love and to be loved.