Thunderbolts is curled up with his head by my armpit, his face resting against my chest, his hands folded over his chest, one hand resting on my ribcage.
He’s sick. Really sick. This is his first outbreak.
This is a man who is usually so strong, and so quietly powerful – such a magnetic force, full of presence.
Not tonight. Tonight he is vulnerable, he is scared, he is physically weak, and he is giving himself over to me to care for him. To look after him.
I feel awful that he’s now affected, and that it’s hitting him so hard. I don’t want to see him suffer like this.
But there’s something beautiful about this man seeking me out for comfort and solace and care. It’s beautiful to be gifted the care of such a powerful and strong man.
This is the beauty in an ugly situation.