The steady and persistent echo of love

last weekend, I spent the night in the hospital excavating the interior of my own heart

Through the open window of my office as I write, I can hear my neighbor talking on the phone. The rhythmic lilt of his native Creole, a language I do not understand, floats above the steady drone of a (thankfully distant) leaf blower, the bee-bird chorus in my garden, the soft and recently, ever so cherished hum of my own body.

A week ago, I found myse…