When I remember the things or experiences that most move me…they are not fancy or financially expensive.
It’s memories like how my mothers hands looked when she cut up a chicken or made cookies, how she would reach for me when I was sad, how my father pulled me to his lap to tell me how God made the stars just for me, how my grandmother grilled us early morning sandwiches or frosted a cake with homemade icing and how she accepted my love days before her death, how my grandfather smelled like sweat, leather, sweet hay and tobacco no matter what he had been doing, and how he woke me up at 2 am to rush me to the barn to see a foal being born slick and wet with new life on toothpick legs coming to stand in just minutes after birth. My uncle taking me fishing. My aunt taking me horse back riding. My father taking me with him to work on Sundays and letting me play secretary with his office supplies. The way my 7yo son still hugs my hand to his cheek as he did even in infancy.
It is the welcoming of these experiences that grounds me and let’s me know what is real.
Don’t be freaked out I told you I love you. You already knew it. You also know I need nothing back. It’s a gift to you. One I simply did not want to go unspoken.