Love from the Mouth of Babes
With the unrest in the world, I have had a difficult time writing and being still. My heart goes out to the Ukrainians and neighboring Polish people, and everyone affected by what is happening.
I recently read an article with an accompanying picture of a young family saying goodbye to each other at the Ukrainian-Polish border. Seeing these children crying for their father as he returns home to fight and their mother holding tight to them, brought tears to my eyes. As a mother and human, my heart breaks for them, and I continue to send light and love, and pray for them with my family daily.
But it is also my children who continue to lift me up—their laughter, love, and sparkle brighten my days. And it is my children who inspired this blog post. Specifically, my oldest son, Ty.
On our return from Mimi’s (my mom’s) last week, my children told me about their day, sang songs, giggled, and teased one another. When I pulled up to a cherry-colored stop light, my son asked me a question that I’ll never forget.
“Mom, how do you know if you’re in love?” Ty asked thoughtfully in the backseat propped in his booster, while his curious gaze met mine in the rearview mirror.
I considered his question for a moment.
As an author, my job is to define love. I write love stories. I live and breathe romance. And I love, love stories. But I’ve never explained love to a six-year-old until. How would one even begin to explain such a feeling?
His question perplexed me for a moment and then excitement swirled in my chest as the light blazed a brilliant green. “Well,” I began and pressed the gas pedal, “when you’re in love, you want to be with that person all the time.”
“But what does it feel like?”
Another great question. Kudos to my brilliant son for making me think.
I smiled wide as my cheeks bloomed. “It’s like a warm feeling all over your body…like when you’re wrapped in a big hug and you hold on tight because it feels so nice and safe there.”
Ty sat up straighter in his booster. “I’m in love with Hazel.”
“You are?”
“Yep,” he said, staring out the window with his rosebud lips curved in a soft smile and feet swinging happily. “She chases me on the playground when we play tag and she’s really funny. We laugh all the time. She's really nice too, Mom.”
My heart sears with love for this sweet boy who never fails to remind me what’s important. He has also inspired me to write. You may one day find yourself reading one of my books and come across an inquisitive little boy with green eyes who asks the main character this very question. Until then, I send you love.
Erica Mae