Love doesn’t want him to know how scared I’ve been. Love doesn’t want him to feel like he’s wrong or bad or a burden, ever.
Love doesn’t want her to feel like she’s being lost in the shuffle, like the only way to get my attention is to act out. Love doesn’t want her to feel invisible or less than, ever.
So instead, love does. Love kisses his hot forehead, smooths back his hair, pours juice, brings medicine, turns on the television, assures him it’s okay to rest, snuggles up just like when he was small and helps him fall into a feverish sleep.
Love bakes cookies for her club meeting, spends an hour prepping materials for science experiment subject kits, and never once gives in to the urge to say “You should’ve…” or “This is your job.” Instead, love cheers her on, checks her work, smiles and hugs and looks her in the eye when her work is done and says, “Thank you for doing what you needed to do. I hope you’re feeling as proud of you as I am.”
Love does. Amen.
(Happy Love Thursday, everyone.)