Written on a piece of scrap paper while babysitting my nephew...

Sometimes I feel phantom arms around me in the still of a quiet moment. A reassuring touch when I need it, and even when I don't, particularly. It makes me smile. I know that somewhere out there, the owner of the phantom arms is waiting, just as I am. Someday, sometime, I'll finally meet him - or maybe I already have but just don't know it yet. At any rate, I hope he feels my arms when he needs it, too.