Thursday, March 3, 2016

my heart

I remember, as a girl, looking forward to the time when I would have my own children (I just knew I would have some, somehow).  They represented an object of my love and affection with whom I could be completely, wholeheartedly, unashamedly obsessed.  I never had to worry about whether they reciprocated.

And now I'm thirty years old and they are everything.  They are my heart.  And the most thrilling, maddening, infuriating, blessed part of all is that they do reciprocate.

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