VIRB

Its never easy to hope. There's such great risk. Such potential of hurt. Love and hope are dangerous things -- because they make us feel. And feelings make us human, but humans fail, and things fall apart; without rhyme or reason or explanation. But we dust off and get up and find the reins of hope yet again. Perhaps foolish and foolhardy, selfish or blind, but there's a story to be written, a life beyond ours and sometimes we're merely a role of the whole.

So here we our -- my bride, my wife -- facing another hope. Another child. A third. Another laugh, another voice, another part of our story. Sunshine and a ray. Hints of excitement and anticipation; but only hints. And left lingering is that crush and burst, that pain of hope unrealized. 9 weeks. Fingers crossed. Hope lingering, yet docked on the bay, waiting for assurance.

But still hope.

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