Our hearts are mended together with the materials given to us from everybody we meet. Patterns of memories and stitches of emotion. Our hearts are tragedy, miracles and the unknown. They are colorful and swollen, they are breakable, broken, and steel. They are beautiful. Blissful silence of beating melodies and fragile thoughts. They carry us around and bury us with a neon sign for somebody to find us again. They are just as uneasy as a scared bear and just as reckless as a drunken soldier, but they are also just as strong as a mother’s connection to her children. We need to hold our hearts in plain sight but never let them go. They are ours and if somebody can love them just enough to keep them pumping, then we have found a trustworthy finger to place a piece of material on and leave it there forever.