Someone I love is transitioning from one job to another. The familiar has been exchanged for new dynamics between coworkers, a different commute,  lost seniority. Hopefully a year from now it will be positive, but for now the incline is steep. 

Someone else that I hold dear is in a hospital bed. Life got overwhelming, and being cared for seems like the only way to get from today to next week. 

My heart is with them both, which feels like a poor substitute for arms and action. Why is it that love falls short when we want nothing so much as to ease the ache? How can I reach through the walls that are time and space? 

Even if I were closer, the limits of my scope of influence are unyielding. I cannot do the job, drive the car, heal the pain. How taunting it is to be able to see through the glass and not touch.

The people we love... our partners, our children, our friends... wearily put one foot in front of the other, barely able to look up from the sidewalk. 

But maybe, through sheer effort they are able to look over their shoulders long enough to see that someone who loves them is waving with both hands and a goofy grin. 

And that will be enough to take the next step.