When I was a girl I loved riding my bike with "no hands".
I loved coming home at dusk, cold, I could smell dinner cooking in the oven and feel my mother waiting, before I opened the door.
I loved going for a chocolate ice cream soda to help ease my broken heart after taking an unexpected litter of kitties to the pound.
I loved going out for Sees Candy after a trip to the dentist. I disliked going to the dentist but the candy insured I went often.
I loved crayons and paints and copied the paintings hanging in our home. My mother admired my creativity appropriately and asked her friends if they thought I had any talent. I think she was unsure.
When I was a teenager, I loved painting my long fingernails and setting my hair in mesh rollers before going to sleep. Then "Twiggy" came along and I cut my hair very short.
I loved boys and the idea of being married and having someone take care of me. I loved swimming in the lake, feeling the power of my changing body, and how it felt to soak up hours of sun.
I also loved my sister's clothes, but she didn't love me to wear them. I was in trouble a lot with my sister.
When I became a young woman, I loved my husband and my children, the ones who made me grow up, quickly.
I loved the idea of creating a perfect family, in the traditional way and perfection was an underlying current in every thing I did. I tried too hard.
Some of the moments I loved most were lying outside on summer evenings, wrapped up in sleeping bags and watching the night sky with my younger son.
I loved indoor picnics on rainy days, the kids dressing up in their dads clothes, his underwear on their heads, socks on their hands, ties dangling around there necks.
I love that they didn't become the people I expected them to be. Everything about them has been unexpected and good. They are my teachers.
I am now considered to be a senior citizen (don't you love labels?), and love has become richer in these last years. I don't try so hard to be perfect or expect other people to be, either.
I love characters and incongruences in people and life.
I love to see pain transformed into beauty.
I love to experience creativity and contrasts.
I love to tell the truth and to be told the truth, too.
I love that my husband supports me, but not in the way I expected, at least now. He supports me by working long hours with my art business and is very sure of my talent. He supports me by telling me I'm awesome on the days when I am very clearly not.
I love coming in to our home, cold, after a day at the studio and flipping the switch on our gas fireplace.
I love the smells of dinner prepared the night before and leftovers in the fridge.
I love writing poetry and I love to paint.
I love my family. I love the idea of miracles and the afterlife.
I love being quiet and having space. I love dancing too.
