It's what we do with the things we can't afford to lose. Steel rebar threaded via concrete on the levee ahead the storm, extra stitching along the seams where the fabric pulls tightest. Reinforced means you have found the weak spot, the area of pressure focus, where failure starts, and decided: not here, not today, not on my watch.
Still, sometimes reinforcement is not physical. I am enough. I am capable of doing this. Repetition is an architecture, layering confidence to shore up the unstable base of uncertainty. Every affirmative another steel beam in the self-framework.
Or it's sociable. The buddy who comes back repeatedly reminds you of your value when you have forgotten it. The parent who claims to believe in you so many times it turns into load-bearing, structural, the thing supporting you when everything else is about to collapse.
