Small gestures of love

​            Once in a while, something elicits a tightening underneath the ribs, a contraction in the throat, an electric pulse from chest to hands, a full-body blossoming. I swallow. I breathe in. Beauty makes me weep. I think this comes with age.
            I don’t tend to get verklempt at staged events. I am too prepared. That emotional overflow comes when it catches me unawares. An unconscious, unscripted gesture of love is beauty in its simplest form, eloquent beyond words.
             
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 21: 78 words, TOTAL = 3203; 56,797 remaining