In the vast expanse of a lifetime, the heart holds so much—dreams, desires, and the echoes of countless moments. In a single day, an hour, or a fleeting moment, we carry a world within us, a world that remains utterly open to no one. Not to those who brought us into this world, nor to those we choose as partners, lovers, or friends. We may open the windows of our souls to others, but in the end, we dwell alone within the house of the heart. Perhaps it is necessary, a shield against the fear of a heart constantly wounded.

In youth, we believe in the promise of one person who will sustain and cherish us forever. Yet with age, we come to understand that this is a child’s dream. In truth, all hearts bear scars, some visible, others hidden, mended by time and will, yet forever fragile and vulnerable. No defense, no fortress of bricks can render the heart impervious. It can crumble in an instant, brought down by a second glance, a child’s innocent breath, the shattering of glass, or the weight of sorrow.

You may fortify your heart with every ounce of strength and resolve, yet it remains susceptible to the gentle touch of a parent’s aging hand, the echo of a father’s voice in the early morning, the fleeting memory of a broken creature seeking solace, or the tender words of a loved one. The heart, despite its resilience, remains fragile and rickety, forever susceptible to the tender moments that remind us of our shared humanity.

Copyright © Beatriz Esmer