I breathe. I sleep. I carry the loss of life and injury in a fragile compartment next to my heart, each moment grateful, each moment heartbroken. And then I remember to be right here.
No farther than this moment with birds spiraling up into the evening sky. No farther than their flight of air and feathers, silhouettes against the bright balloons of hedonists, drinking the good beauty of the day drawing to a close.
Then I breathe again. I breath in air sweet with drying hay, and leaves turning hue. Again I am learning how to bow at the alter of the moment. Again I am learning that now is all I have.