It’s my fingers that remember the three button sequence to activate the dishwasher. I count on muscle memory daily. Readying myself at the pool for the first time of the season, I knew if I just did the hard part, get in, that my arms and legs would take over. My head would turn to breathe. My brain would tell my chilly, but beating core, “oh you only have to do a few laps,” both knowing that when reaching that number, I would up it again, and again. Each muscle nodding to the one that always won out, the heart. I smile, certain that I will never finish loving you.

Walking by a photo or painting. Hearing the opening notes to a song. Breathing in the scent of flowered hope. The sequence is activated and I think of you. And it’s such a relief to know it. To count on it. To feel it to my beating core. This love.

When the new challenge seems difficult. When I think it perhaps too much to get through, I remind myself, I only have to get in. The heart will see me through. I smile, and go a little deeper.