The Voice

"It's OK, baby. Shhh.... It's OK. I got my girl." I nestle deeper into his arms, engulfed in shoulders, sniffing the warm sweetness of him. The sobs I didn't know I contained wrack against his chest, the wellspring of tears soaks the collar of his T-shirt. "It's OK baby. I'm so proud of my girl. It's OK. I gotchya now."

It's his voice I hear. The one he used after I finished Grandma's Marathon and was walked over to him by his mom and sister. I broke only when I saw him, sitting there on the bench. It's his voice I hear. The one he used after I collapsed into him, letting my tears pour, letting my body quiver. He held me dearly. He held me well.

When I'm climbing and need to get it together, it's his voice I hear. That rocksolid warmth and love. For the millionth time, thank you, E.