Few possess the craft to navigate a love that spans the world.

It is a geography of paradox: to desperately hoard every fraction of time when beside your heart to mindfully pull back, knowing the tyranny of miles will soon demand its usual hold on your days.

I move forward, my gaze fixed firmly on the future's horizon, but the cost is the unseen growth of those I cherish.

I am missing the chapters of my nieces' unfolding lives, the shifts and sudden blossoming I only catch in static frames.

A fear echoes through my heart: Will distance blur my face until I become a stranger in the very light of their eyes?