" armed with a love that makes me brave "

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walking through the house with my hands gripped tightly around the handle one of my kitchen knives, i can hear them shifting.

these old wooden floors creak with each step, and i can feel a slivered splinter stick into my non-existent arch, but pay it no mind. there are intruders.

it feels like a sweatbox in the hallway as i pass by the radiator. i can smell them, perhaps eating last night's roast chicken dinner. plates are falling and crashing upon the floors. ever since they landed on this planet, it's been a tense survival.

behind me i've left my wife and daughter in the master bedroom. both of them are so strong, but i'm not sure that i want them to have to deal with this, the latest break-in. it's just been too long.

i take some deep breaths and my eyes, adjusting to the shadows, can see one of them, grotesque and grunting, skulking and flashing in the darkness. summoning up everything i've got, i begin to run with a full force.

the knife is just for show, because i know that i'm armed with a love that makes me brave.


tonight's homework:

make eye contact with a complete stranger, in a non-forced moment, and hold that gaze until they look away. remain honest, steadfast, and truthful.

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