When faced with adversity, dealing with circumstances beyond our control, when we are nothing but anxious spectators of some unfolding misery, we tend to seek comfort from unexpected sources. I am going through such a phase, as I deal with a loved one’s illness, waiting anxiously by the phone, having to comfort and re-assure others when I feel so drained myself. Sleep has eluded me too. I look for comfort in little things, anything to engage and distract my mind. The news of a miniscule sign of improvement, the mere opening of eyes, offers solace. Recollections of a certain person bring micro-moments of love into my life, transcending grief; tumbling forth like wild and rampant waves. Books fail to engage me now. I walk. I work. I shut my eyes and tune into every sound I can hear, neatly arranging them in my mind, and realizing how silence is a fallacy. Everything is moving, all the time. I have this sudden urge to feel alive, because it is such a precarious thing, this life, who can predict when it would slip away. I sound morbid, but when I see a loved one wither away, I feel more aware of my hands that work, feet that walk, eyes that can see, mind that thinks and loves; in a twisted irony, I am more aware of being alive. And I want to make each moment count; moments filled with love, laughter and hope.