On the journey to solving the mystery of my dizziness,  a cardiologist discovered that I do, indeed, have a heart.  And it flutters erratically.

Three years and two prescriptions latter, I still get dizzy at all the same times, inconvenient but not fatal or dangerous.  Never while driving, thankfully.  My heart’s antics don’t account for the light-headedness.  So I take the pills to calm my heart’s frenzied dancing, to soothe the jolts of current running through at wild angles.

I will it to stillness at times.  Last evening a hummingbird beat its wings within me, frantic to escape captivity.  The room fell silent as evening ticked through midnight into morning.   I lay counting the beats, the skips, the spaces between.  Ah, my heart.  My heart.

Other than its crazy pattern, and bruises from the battering of love’s lament, my heart pumps sure and strong.  So I won’t complain.  My life continues, and where life persists, so does possibility.