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.
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.