My daughter Lula has this ritual at bedtime.
Just as we are about to make the escape from her room and close that door behind us, she calls out, “Can you stay with me for just one minute?” and anyone with a brain knows what that means, and when we agree because we have accepted that we are suckers, and we lie down next to her she says, “OK! LET’S TALK. YOU CHOOSE!” in this hilarious way, like we’re having a sleep over now and we’re finally gettin’ to the GOOD gossip. And so, because she’s commanded us to choose, we choose a whatever topic, like completely random out of thin air whatevers. It’s awesome. And we get into some really wierd and wacky discussions that have on occasion led to one hour talks. We talk life and death, we talk about what stuffed animals are stuffed with and how paper is made. We talk about people and what might be going on for them to have behaved that way and most recently we talked about LOVE. This one made me hold my breath, it was so exquisite. This moment was so precious I just wanted to soak in it forever.
My question to her was, “What does love feel like to you?”
and out it came, no hesitation, rushing out of her, sure and strong as a waterfall. I just lay back and felt it pour over me and through me. (Now here’s where you come in. Start painting in your head.)
It’s white. And black. And gold. And red. And green.
And yellow…and green,
and yellow and green and yellow and green and yellow and green and yellow and green and yellow and green and
orange and pink
and tingly
and warm
and brave.
…
BRAVE. Yes she said BRAVE> Holy sock me in my gut with the truth of love, nirvana just slap me around a bit more, i like it! Love is brave HELL YES it is!!!
It’s like you’re painting and painting and it’s all nice and colourful and lovely and then it’s BRAVE, and suddenly it’s fierce and big and luscious and all over the place.
Tonight, my question after the dance was, “How do you feel right now?”
And Lula answered, “Good. Happy. Brave and Strong.”
Guess what my new favorite word is.
