We're halfway home—
    two weeks gone,
    two left to count,
    a mid-game pause…

    stretch the legs,
    catch the breath,

    mark the small moments we've made it through.

Fourteen days
    measured in innings—
    stats and songs passed softly,
    scores and silences traded like signals,

    a gentle play-by-play across two glowing screens.

Today, she watched
    without really watching—
    quiet in her blues—
    my words soft on her shoulder,
    trying to be the hug she didn't ask for…

    but maybe needed.

Two weeks more.
    336 hours,
    2,000 miles,
    countless innings,

    and far too few hugs.

But we've passed the midpoint,
    rounding second,
    eyes on home,
    the distance shrinking—

    not just in miles, but in missing.

One more deep breath.
One more glance at the scoreboard.

Back in play—
    each pitch pulling us closer…

    to where the real touch waits.

To where “stretch” ends,
      and “safe” begins.