Maybe Love Is More Than a Four-Letter Word
I was babysitting a friend’s child recently.
He’s two-years old and only talkative about things of interest to him. While he will give hugs if familiar with you, he is not a child who regularly seeks affection.
As he was getting ready to leave my house, his father said “Say I love you.” I saw him look around as he repeated the words, but I knew he felt uncomfortable. I mean, what does a two-year old know about love other than hearing the adults around him say it?
It got me thinking about my own journey to understanding love.
I am the middle child in my family. Growing up sandwiched between my two brothers and being raised by a mom with a dislike for what she perceived as weakness made for a tough childhood.
Mama had no problem with saying I love you to us when she was in a good mood, but she was often stressed and angry about struggling to provide as a single mom.
Those I love you moments were few and far between. Even more rare was her acceptance of my verbal expressions of love to her.
“No, you don’t,” she would say, looking irritated at me when I said it. I can still see her facial expression and feel the sting of her voice.
