A Heartbeat

A heartbeat isn't much. Just a little thu-thump, not even audible unless you're in very close proximity.

But at the same time, it's so much more.

I know that science says that the brain is the happening part of the body and that the heart is just an engine, the heartbeat just a tachometer. I also know that science isn't as omniscient and important as it likes to think it is, and I refuse to give it the final say.

A heartbeat is a reminder, a constant, a comfort.

A heartbeat is not the sound of cold, clean machinery. It is vibrant and visceral. It signifies muscle and blood and sinew. Signifies another being. Signifies that you are not alone.

A heartbeat doesn't stop for anything short of death. It may quicken during excitement and slow during sleep, but it's always there. Where there is a heartbeat, there is life.

A heartbeat means that someone cares about you enough and trusts you enough to allow you close enough to listen. It is an audible reminder of the love (of whatever form) that flows from the same place.

A heartbeat is something that I can't entirely describe. Whether this is because I am not eloquent enough to capture it, or because science and language fail to fully encompass it, I don't know.

But I do know that a heartbeat is one of the most beautiful sounds in all of Creation, and one that I haven't heard in a long time. Here's to you, heartbeat, wherever you are. Keep beating.