Foundations
Hands shaking. Palms sweating. Stomach playing rugby on a swaying ship. Brain in an absolute panic. No coherent thought possible. Heart threatening to hammer it’s way out of my chest. My world shaken to it’s very foundations. Walls falling all over the place. I want to scream, to run. I want to make sure everything is ok, to touch you all over to be certain nothing is broken. But all I can manage is a cold “You good to go?”. I’m sorry. Even if things were different, I doubt I could manage much more. The answer is an undeserved balm for my soul.
“Yes, sir.”
The walls snap back up, the foundation solidifies. The stomach settles, the brain clears. As always, you are my rock. My unflinching, ever-steady grounding in reality, without which I would be lost on a sea of uncertainty.
Come on, we have a job to do here.
The End
