to be so loved

There is a school of thought, and an entire series of books, dedicated to the notion that people have different ways of expressing their love - different love languages. I have tried and tried to decipher my "one" love language, and I can't. But I do know that I have a dominant one: physical touch.

I'm a very tactile person. When I walk into a clothing store, before I can take any item seriously, I have to touch it. That's what gets my attention. I've always been like that. So it's no surprise that it's how I show my affection. Anyone who has seen me with my girls could have guessed it, too. I hug them, tug them, pet them, grab their cheeks and chins, smooth their hair. I can't stop from reaching out to them if they are around me.

Boo is very similar in her "love language." The Bean is less so, in that way. But what they both do that is the same as me, is that they are very demonstrative. At 11 and 9, they still show me how much they love me far more than I would expect. Every morning, we walk to the bus stop, and every morning just before they climb into the bus, Boo asks me to "wave out the window." So I dutifully stay put, instead of jumping on my bike or running to my own bus stop, and wave at her and The Bean as they wave back to me from their respective seats in the bus. And I don't just get a wave. I get excited, wide smiles. I get blown kisses from both. Every. Single. Morning.

It has been like this forever, since that day that Boo had to scramble up onto the first step of the bus when she wasn't quite four years old. So I take it for granted. But our new neighbours, whose kids take the same bus at our new stop, comment on it. Every. Single. Morning. I get told, "wow; it must be nice to be so loved."

And so it is.