Maggie comes home tomorrow. It’s been a rough trip on her and me. Tough for her because, well, it’s tough what she’s going through. Tough on me because I’m too far away to comfort her during times when she needs it most.

Ever hear the sound of a falling teardrop? The noise smashes right through the phone lines and exits with such force that it’ll break a heart into a million pieces. The only defense is to catch it before it falls. Thus, my job is The Catcher of Tears. It’s a job I take very seriously. I catch them with my finger or with a gently-pressed napkin or, sometimes, with my own cheek. I’ll do what it takes to catch them all lest one of those nuclear-explosive-laced orbs of emotion falls and takes us all out, one heartbreak at a time. But it’s hard to catch them when we are so far apart. So, instead, I catch my own.

I can’t wait to see her face tomorrow.