Felt a little girl fart against my knee today. Another child would not stop touching my butt while one of her compadres insisted I kiss her because she's my wife. Under the fold-able table only a few feet away, eyeing this scene sat a little boy. With eyes blank and ears plugged to block out all the other children telling him to shut up, he hummed a show tune as loud as physically possible to create a sort of soundscape. A food crumb, broken marker, booger fingered audio environment. And in the midst of all this I felt such peace. It was truly wonderful. Childcare is wacky but I kinda love it.
I've been thinking about this off and on... But I think my Dad is to blame, or should I say thank, for all my romanticism. It's songs like these, driving home as the sun's eyes grow heavy and fireflies speckle the blue-ish summer nights that created a big part of what love is to me. It also gives me such insight on my father. Now I know at the end of the day it's just a cheesy song and after you've heard any of the R&B genre, you grow desensitized to all the uses of the word "love". But my dad just isn't like that. And I know that because I'm just like him.
It's thoughts like these that can sadden me. Because I see this in him, and catch him exposing these parts of his being to me inadvertently, but see them hit walls with my mother. The songs that resonate with her heart take different turns and sing in different tunes. I know one could say that they're just songs and that they don't matter, but they do. They really do. The songs connect with a part of them that they don't realize is there or cannot otherwise be expressed and they know it. We all know it. We all have songs that do that for us, kept secret because they leave us emotionally raw or vulnerable. And in my mothers songs love is a chain you choose to wear like a martyr, while in my father's it's not only the key, but the stretch that leads you out of the cell into the light. With my mother it's the moon: always there and pulling ever so slightly, though not always easy to see. With my father It's the sun. I think it is for this reason that they never seem to link up these days-- night has to follow day and day must follow night. Sure there are some days when dawn seems to grow much slower than normal, or the moon is quietly visible well into the afternoon. But for the most part their love comes in shifts. Sometimes the burns of my fathers expression of love need the cool of night to heal them, and others the warmth of day pushes back the loneliness of night. But there is harmony.
I don't think one is better than another. Both are beautiful in their own ways and much of it comes down to perspective. I have beautiful, loving parents, but their love only overlaps when aimed at my brothers and me...
But enough with all that. For as long as I get to call you mine I want us to be like the Sun and a cool breeze, or the moon and a meteor shower.
Under all his reserve and callousness is a warm, goofy, head-shakingly corny love that believes in throws of love, and forever, and promises.
I've been thinking about this off and on... But I think my Dad is to blame, or should I say thank, for all my romanticism. It's songs like these, driving home as the sun's eyes grow heavy and fireflies speckle the blue-ish summer nights that created a big part of what love is to me. It also gives me such insight on my father. Now I know at the end of the day it's just a cheesy song and after you've heard any of the R&B genre, you grow desensitized to all the uses of the word "love". But my dad just isn't like that. And I know that because I'm just like him.
It's thoughts like these that can sadden me. Because I see this in him, and catch him exposing these parts of his being to me inadvertently, but see them hit walls with my mother. The songs that resonate with her heart take different turns and sing in different tunes. I know one could say that they're just songs and that they don't matter, but they do. They really do. The songs connect with a part of them that they don't realize is there or cannot otherwise be expressed and they know it. We all know it. We all have songs that do that for us, kept secret because they leave us emotionally raw or vulnerable. And in my mothers songs love is a chain you choose to wear like a martyr, while in my father's it's not only the key, but the stretch that leads you out of the cell into the light. With my mother it's the moon: always there and pulling ever so slightly, though not always easy to see. With my father It's the sun. I think it is for this reason that they never seem to link up these days-- night has to follow day and day must follow night. Sure there are some days when dawn seems to grow much slower than normal, or the moon is quietly visible well into the afternoon. But for the most part their love comes in shifts. Sometimes the burns of my fathers expression of love need the cool of night to heal them, and others the warmth of day pushes back the loneliness of night. But there is harmony.
I don't think one is better than another. Both are beautiful in their own ways and much of it comes down to perspective. I have beautiful, loving parents, but their love only overlaps when aimed at my brothers and me...
But enough with all that. For as long as I get to call you mine I want us to be like the Sun and a cool breeze, or the moon and a meteor shower.
Under all his reserve and callousness is a warm, goofy, head-shakingly corny love that believes in throws of love, and forever, and promises.
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