What invisible tails follow us around lurking in the corner, trying not to be seen? To act as a hero is to make the other a victim To act the victim is to live searching for a hero. We do ourselves a disservice when we pretend our love isn’t shadowed by the threat of losing it— that our gentleness hasn’t known hatred or violence. That our tending has never known hopeless despair. To each there is an opposite, and they ring as bells struck together, a subtle chord barely decipherable to the untrained ear. Mind the hidden ones. When your life is consumed that Big One, lean in closer— and closer again until you see the foot prints of its unborn twin dancing in the tingling flesh of its agéd arm. The numb hand you were told to ignore. What else do we call in when we call in love?