Impossibly Measured

I can measure my up and down, and unfortunately, my side to side.

But the affinity my hand has for yours;  that magnetic inclination to feel your hand holding mine, I cannot.  How does one measure a feeling?

The width of my smile, the lightness of my heart, twenty-three years of memories together?  That’s a start.

How frequently I creep up behind you to smack your ass-so much so that I’ve ruined your iPhone…

How many times you make me laugh in one phone conversation, the fact that I continuously attempt to make you a Radiohead fan, the coffee cup full of thoughts I have about you through the course of one day…

It can all be measured without numbers;  with how close, no matter the miles between us, our hearts connect.

Measure