I remember looking at one of my kids once and thinking, “Oh. This is how my parents feel about me.”
And that moment didn’t happen when the kid was an infant or a toddler, even. It happened when the child was a little older, in elementary school, dealing with something or accomplishing something – I don’t really remember the exact thing that made me think that.
I just remember thinking it. And feeling it. I also remember telling a friend about that whole philosophy when she lost her dad.
That was a different perspective. Know that how you feel about your kids is how your parents feel about you. It’s a wild thing, you know?
I love having those moments, when lighting strikes. Those moments, that are so monumental, you can almost feel the ground move. And I don’t even care, really, if I’m way behind the curve on understanding them or feeling them or putting things together.
Most times I think I am. But, that’s just my insecurities, I’m finding. And I feel lucky to recognize them. And feel them, experience them and dissect them as often as I do.
I experience them all the time. With my kids. With Ron. With learning about me. With discovering new strengths. With just being able to put things together in ways I was never allowed to before, because reality was warped by someone else who wanted to control the way I perceived things.
Whatever the reason, discovering is priceless. And I discovered something recently that reminded me that my discoveries could be infinite.
I’m wildly in love with a man who has redefined an untold number of things for me, the least of which is what love looks like. I’ve shown him a few things in that arena, too. But I can only speak to my discoveries and with him, they’ve been – at times – overwhelming in the best ways possible.
One of those concepts is that love is easy. And doesn’t require sacrifice. It doesn’t require me giving up me for anyone else. It isn’t uneven in any way. It is a balanced, ever-present warmth. And it means I find happiness when he does, knowing I didn’t have to get him there. I know I am part of it, but I’m not responsible for it.
I’m still trying to figure out how to say this the way I feel it, which is something I struggle with. Especially with him. Because this experience is a new frontier – and frankly, requires new language that I’m not sure exists.
I just know I’m, every day, understanding more about love. What it looks like. How it acts. What it means. How it feels. And I can’t get enough of it. Or him.