how much lightening can you take…

We are on a plane thrown around by wind turbulence returning from your wedding. You are now a husband and Amanda is your wife who shares your name. I have had a daughter for 2 days now. When we parted in the parking lot she began to sob quietly in my arms. Gentle gasps at first. I could feel her soft animal body pulseing into mine. I think it was then that I took Amanda in as your wife and as my daughter. My kin to watch over, keep in mind and worry for her safety and spiritual welfare for the rest of my life. This is the sacred vow that I made with you from the moment I knew you existed and the one I made with Ted on our wedding day. Things are being rearranged in my psyche that remain inarticulatable. Lightening bolts of clarity strike down ripping through my heart and I uncontrollably weep. The mind is always the last to know anything important.