Inclusive, all-embracing.
As he strolled arm in arm with Pris through the throng, all in some way part of his extended family, he felt the strands of that familiar, warm and pleasurable power twining and sliding like ribbons linking them all.
Husband to wife, parent to child, sibling to sibling, twin to twin, between lovers, between uncles and aunts and nieces and nephews, the strands of that power reached and touched, linked and held, connected and supported.
Love.
It was in the air in so many guises, it was impossible not to feel it.
Dillon felt, saw, acknowledged, accepted, and let the power flow through him.
He glanced at Pris, on his arm, then looked around with eyes fully open. Soon, he hoped, another strand of love-the one that linked father to child-would find him. They moved through the crowd, and he drank in all he saw, and felt his heart swell with anticipation.
The majority of males, most of whom were married, congregated to one side of the lawn. Leaving Pris with the ladies sitting under the trees, Dillon joined the gentlemen, inwardly smiling at their glib comments, their habitual grumbling giving voice to their reluctance over attending such emotion-laden events.
He now had a deeper understanding of that reluctance. In this arena, it was exceedingly difficult not to wear their hearts on their sleeves, not to openly acknowledge that power that claimed them all so thoroughly. And that always left them feeling exposed and vulnerable, a reality they never appreciated acknowledging, even if for only a short time.
Regardless, they would always attend as commanded by their mothers, their wives, their daughters or sisters.
Because, as he now understood, when all was considered and weighed in the balance, feeling vulnerable and exposed was a very small price to pay…for this much love.
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