Fire in the middle

Because I use this blog to also remember:

When we named her Norah Moss, I thought the name whispered of one who would know how to sculpt and shape words.  A poet.  A teller of tales.  

And indeed she is.  She tells me: 

I love you as sharp as a crab pinches with his claws.

I love you as hard as a lion bites with his teeth.

I love you deep as the fire in the middle of the earth.

And with the extraordinary intensity of her four year old self, I feel this sharp, hard, and deep love.  It asks, “Do you really love me?  Even when I mess up?”  And it tells me “I’m still a little bit angry about this new baby thing and I am not exactly happy about the changes.”  And it whispers “Even though I pick out my own clothes and fiercely protect my independence, I’m still very small and need snuggles.”

I was reminded yesterday that we are all still very small and need snuggles.