(click on the video twice to play)
My parents took India camping for the long weekend since I had to work, and she just came home a few hours ago. She was grimy and exhausted and she squeezed me tight around my neck because she had missed me, and, because she was so exhausted, she kept breaking down into fits of weeping and wailing.
"Momma?" (Cry, cry, cry) "Do you love me? I just don't feel like you love me." (Cry, cry, cry) And so I would snuggle her and kiss her and fill her up with love and finish making her dinner /reading her a story/brushing her teeth/getting her to bed.
And repeat.
And repeat.
She is her momma's daughter. Last week was a rough week, and by Thursday I was a weepy roller coaster mess in the parts of my brain that I usually keep to myself. I always get embarrassed when I get like that, but I suppose it's inevitable: bad things will happen. I will get hurt, and then I will get sad. But for this long weekend, I got to talk to my sweet friend in England for a couple of hours and see her lovely pregnant belly. I rocked it out on the karaoke with some friends from church, and I sat on a rock in the sun by the river with my shoes off and burnt my nose.
I told India tonight that it's alright if she feels sad, and that if she needs to hear me say again and again that I love her, that I will - that I will be glad to tell her how special and lovely and beautiful she is to me. So she stopped crying. We snuggled until she fell asleep, and I came up here to say I think I'll hang around here awhile longer.
