I want to memorize this feeling, even as I allow it to flow through me, and I stay present in the next moment. And the next.
I want to carve it on my heart and mind, so that I can pull it up when I want (or need) it most.
I’m sitting here with both my kids. Enjoying them. Basking in them. And potentially annoying them. But I don’t care (about the annoying part).
“Deal with it,” I say to them, as I hug or kiss them one more time. “Deal with it.”
“It sucks to have me love you this much,” I acknowledge to them. “And to have me delight in you so much.”
They can deal with it, because I’m not stopping.
I’m not stopping – or even pausing – the love that soars through me as I look at and listen to my kids. The delight I feel in learning more about who they are and who they are becoming. The joy that floods my senses and clouds my vision…in a good way.
My parents may have loved (or may love) me this much, but I didn’t know it if they did. I didn’t feel it in how they attempted to show it.
My kids might not appreciate my over-focus on and over-affection for them. They may find me annoying (they clearly do at times). But they know I love them, and to me, that is way, way cool.
My kids know they matter to me – more than most things if not all things. They know they can tell me anything (and I’ll most likely respond in a completely wrong way at first, but still). They know they can ask me anything. And ask me for anything. And I love knowing that they know all this.
And the joy I feel as I sit with the two of them, the wholeness that envelops me as I look down the hall and see both of their bedroom doors closed (because they’re both here and asleep), the completeness that soothes me as I watch them talk – or wrestle – in the other room – all of these emotions are all I want in life.
I want to remember these moments forever, even as I move on to each next moment. I want to remember these moments forever.
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