Before I have the chance to absorb the fact that his chest is now broad enough for me to rest my head on, I catch the faint thrumming underneath.
He prattles on–our pillow talk.
“Shhh,” I say, softly, pressing cheek into warm softness.
He is very still, and, it seems, the thrumming grows stronger for the listening.
The doctors tell me there is a murmur in there somewhere. I strain, but all I hear is a steady beat.
I turn my face so I can see his.
“Your heart is beating,” I whisper.
His smile illuminated by closet light cascade.
I return ear to that small place and close my eyes, soothed by this song of life.
And the miracle of it makes me all soft inside.