The other night I cried before bed because I probably will never feed Miro with my body again. I would rather not go into the specifics of the way his eyes were like a seals’ looking up at me or how a small body’s weight feels different when it relaxes all the way, because the details said out loud make it all so much less than it was. And I don’t want to bore you. But you know how it is. You know what it’s like to feel so much that the line between joy and sorrow fuzzes out of existence. You know what it’s like to try to memorize a person’s touch and smell as if that were a way to hold on to them forever. You know what it’s like to be in love.