There are moments after – these exquisite moments – when her eyes soften and she looks directly at me, almost through me. Moments after – when her breathing has settled and her muscles have relaxed. She does not speak, at least not with words. The intense, hurried pace of her life slows to barely a crawl. The voices of those around her who call to her daily, demanding she continually pour herself out until nothing is left, fade to silence. She has cast aside the weight of her burdens. She has fed her hunger on the sustenance I provide. Her soul has drawn strength from my touch. And she lies there softly, beautifully, having found herself again, restored, whole… in the moments after.