Heart
We talk about the “heart”.
Do we know what this place is; do we know this feeling well enough to call it our home?
When I grew up, we were not instructed in the understanding of this. The only “heart” we knew was the embarrassing crimson blob we’d see on Valentine’s cards from adoring classmates, once a year. Then, of course, the word was used carefully, guardedly, in relation to romance and those fleeting bottle-of-wine-in-the-meadow moments that often turn into jaded and forgotten memories.
And “heart”, for most of us, became an unknown item on an illegible menu in a cafe whose doors were closed to business.
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