In response to the Sandbox Writing challenge: What makes you feel loved?
There are some posts that stop you in your tracks. They make you sit and wonder and ponder and send your internal speech reeling. They take you to personal places and make you reexamine things and make you evaluate and examine all the stuff that you simply take for granted, but miss in the moments when you are alone and all the everything has given you a moment of rest. You seldom want to share what you find in those places, not with loved ones and not with friends and definitely not with a room full of strangers. The universe of anonymous watchers that can quantify me only by what they see that I have shared in the place, in this space.
When I first saw this challenge I ran through all the places, and I really didn’t mean to write anything here, for fear that it would brighten the wrong eye, fall on the wrong ear and be misconstrued. I wanted to cover my raw with things that I could chuckle at later and skip over lightly.
“I feel loved when I am showered in chocolate and made love to, passionately.” would have been my generic cover up, to what I found in the place where me and the voices hold conclave. But it wouldn’t be true. I mean yes, sex and chocolate, provide rich heady flavors, and endorphin releasing exertion that in the moment leave you warm and exhausted and easily subdued in comfortable sleep, but that’s not love, not by itself.
The truth is, love for me comes in flavors. Sisterly love, Parently love, Romanitic love, the love of my children, the Love of my sistas and the love of myself. Each its own creature and each requiring it’s own form of satisfaction. (Note some of my sistas are brothers but that’s not the point right now)
I want my sister to see me as a person, an equal, worthy of more than an passing glance as she goes on her way, treating us as if we are somehow competing entities on some giant board of chess.
I want my parents to take pride in the woman I have become, the lessons I have taken from their experiences and guidance, a foundation that gave me the structure needed to become this woman worthy of the admiration of them who pass through my tutelage.
I bask in the fact that my children see their mother in this light, and want to place good report cards and helping hands at the alter of my favor, and I love the warm smiles and hugs and kisses and earnest talks and the way they care. Because mommy is not just the giver of things, life, love, convenience and comfort. Mommy is mommy and she deserves the best. Even when they are at their worst, they know what is required.
I want the respect of my Sistas. The strong women and sometimes men, I find myself in company with, the ladies that breath inspiration into me, that challenge me, and never allow me, even in my darkest moments to falter. Or are there to love me through. Most times with wine and chocolate. Their interest in me makes me feel loved.
My lover…from whom I seek companionship and honestly. That agree to disagree vibe we had even upon our first meeting. Its touches and concern and sometimes having to balls to tell me when it’s for my own good to just let go. Stand with me through the struggle and snuggle with me through it all. Challenge my opinions, stimulate my mind and soul as well as my body. Whole-istic love.
Myself…I want me be comfortable and justified in me. Who I am and who I am becoming. See all of myself with acceptance. Ming body and soul. I want to understand my journey and learn from it, grow in it. Not until I am overflowed with material things, hollow empty things, but with a light that is uniquely mine.
I feel loved in many ways. I feel loved my many folks, I know love…and I’m glad of that fact. Thanks Calen for reminding me of that.