Brevity

A breath of air could be

Closing a hug around seven grandchildren, four children with their spouses, and a spouse of two and sixty years;

Relating a story of sixty decades minus the last decade that faded away before the other years, to the life that entered four decades after the tale first began;

Catching a drop of water from the eyes of the one who elegantly accompanied through thick and thin and thinner than thin, for four fifths of a century;

Nodding at the forest of unknown that's more known than what's toiling inside, trusting that the sole companion of twenty autumns will understand and will not weep.

It could also be

Singing the third song at karaoke at the next family reunion;

Bidding the first "Good night" in the usual chain of "Sweet dreams" bracketing the call after work that was never hung up by either end;

Promising to see you tomorrow with feelings unuttered and heartache unresolved;

Trying to connect to the ship's WiFi before pressing the send button;

Dreaming about the old days, only to wake and remember that this dream is actually a rose-coloured reality;

How regret comes in drops and in swells, and we are charged by the gram.