I remember as a young child sitting with my family at dinner. We were a tight little unit, plenty of banter and laughs - and from the feeling of closeness and inclusion (perhaps joy) I had this sudden and eerie awareness of the little words and gestures that passed between my parents, of their language of emotion and attachment that had no meaning for me and from which I was excluded.

It was the first time that I had a sense that I had been made and born, and that those with whom I ate and laughed had a past, years of history during which I was unknown to them, a mere possibility of the future.

I remember feeling a true love for them that didn't have root in my own childish needs for security, protection etc. It was a very intense moment that put me in awe of them, this realization that I lived because they lived, and they had chosen to call me up from nothing just so we could eat together and have some laughs.

jameliz (or be he heretofore known as "His Meddlesome Upstart"), A capital suggestion, and eloquently worded. Am eager to watch this develop. Thank you for stepping up, taking a swing. (This had better go well or you'll have more than a few paltry pushups to mewl and whinge about.) As always, Her Royal Killjoy

The topic of love, is, in no way a corny topic.

Love can take on many different facets, depending on who it is we love.

The love of a parent is different than the love we have for our children, but both, in my opinion, are as genuine as love gets.

In a normal relationship, the love of a parent is there because they have provided that primary source of affection, protection and care for us. We have grown to trust that they have our best interest at heart. And, in times of prolonged separation from them we feel stressed and worried because we want to provide for them the same as they have provided for us.

My mom is not only my mom. She is my best friend. When my mom suffers, my heart goes out to her and I often wish I could take her pain, and I often worry about her more than she worries about herself.

I often ask myself, when my mom leaves this earth will I be able to survive because I know she is the only one who truly loves me and has my best interest at heart, and that she will make the right decision for me, and will provide the unbiased viewpoint that I need.

Losing my mom would be like losing a part of me.

And, as of today, I have yet to find this love from anyone else.

Incidentally, the image I've posted may seem ghoulish but I find it beautiful and appropriate to the theme of love. The photograph is of two ancient souls, a man and a woman, whose remains were unearthed this year (in Italy, I believe), still clinging to one another in death as we might imagine they did in life.

Vive l'amour!

Nebrad,

Have not yet made your acquaintance, but what a lovely introduction your piece is. Your splendid, specific miniature takes us to our own seat inside of you at that dinner table so many years ago, into your motherboard to witness and feel the moment with you. Does writing have a higher purpose?

Yours is our first response and sets a high bar for this exercise. Bravo.

"mewl and whinge"? Had we best cut out that 5:56 a.m. hooch in our coffee?

Sir Spellcheck

I know, I know. I'm the pot calling the peyote black.

Am not seeing this image of love eternal, if slightly decayed. Did it perhaps not upload?

Oh. I see it now. As the late and dearly missed Ms. Latella (nee Gilda Radner) would say: Never mind.

(Check the image at the top of this Discussion)