I stepped through the door after a very long week.  Coming home seemed the only escape possible, the only reprieve from too much need, too many demands, and too little time.

Yet I came home to find no one here, no one upon whom I could rest my cares and burdens.  The Kids offered their usual greetings, yes, and their unconditional love and devotion oft times quenches my thirst for relief, but they remain unable to derail the hurt that runs deep, the spirit that reaches out to touch another soul, a kindred spirit, one who might comprehend with fullness.

Make no mistake.  They have carried me through the toughest of times, through minefields of mayhem and tribulations of turmoil.  Their compassion and camaraderie are powerful forces in my world that I could never live without.  I hardly imagine surviving life’s ups and downs sans their companionship and support.  Nursing me through ailments and caressing my emotional wounds are things they do with expertise.  They know me, understand me.

Nevertheless, I find it all so hard to believe when comes a time to mend the hurt that wells up inside.  Are there no ears to hear my plea?  No shoulder upon which to cry?

Friends and family bequeath to me much of what is needed, yet perhaps something else remains hidden, missing.

There is so much to be found by a despairing heart and busy mind in what cannot be offered by others.  It’s a need, a want… a wanted need and a needed want, then, for the arms to embrace me as I fall toward sleep, for the nodding head to quietly acquiesce to my blind ramblings, for the speech to fill my ears with another’s woes when they ring so violently with my own.