Love.

A little girl asked me what love is.

“Tough question.” I said, giving her a wink. “Let me put it this way. Love is mommy’s tears after she gave birth to you and when she first held you in her arms. It’s when daddy sits across your little table to play tea party with you. Love is when someone shares their toys and laughs with you.”

 

“Love is happy then!” She butted in.

 

“Not all the time.” I answered. She looked a bit confused so I explained by saying, “Love too is when daddy or mommy spanks you to discipline you. It’s when you have to give up your last piece of candy so another kid can have it. Love is when your teacher lets you face the wall for cheating in school. Honey, love can be painful too.”

 

She stood up and cupped her delicate fingers on my face. Moving it from left to right, she stared straight into my eyes. The little girl folded her arms and made a cute, angry face.

You talk like love is only for my age. What is love like for you?” 

 

“Oh! Well, um, why do you ask?” My words stammered, surprised by her curiosity.

 

“Because your eyes look sad.” She replied. “Is love painful for you?”

 

My mind searched for the right words to say, something a little girl can comprehend but even before my brain could command my tongue, my heart managed to make me cry and without any thought I responded by saying:

“Love for me is both happy and painful. Happy because he has finally found the woman to love, painful because she wasn’t me.”

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