Sharing Is Caring
“Daddy, why do you love Mommy?”
Sam sat on the swing next to his five-year-old son, Max, taken aback by his question.
“Well, Max, Daddy loves Mommy because…”
He paused, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he didn’t know how to explain. How could he extrapolate his feelings and put them into words like musicians do? If he had a canvas, perhaps he could paint Max a picture, but even then, only he would be able to understand the painting clearly.
“… I don’t know. I just love Mommy.”
Sam pursed his lips, thinking how to answer this question. He thought back to when he and Paulina were sitting on swings, enjoying each other’s company, sharing the sparks and broken pieces of their hearts. The attraction wasn’t immediate, he remembered, but it was deep. It was a depth that could only be known if one had traveled there, had sunken to that point. They both knew that once they reached that depth, it was meant to be.
“Mommy and Daddy share something really special, something that can’t really be explained in words.”
Max looked away from Sam for a moment, then turned to ask, “Is it me?”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, Max. Mommy and Daddy share you, and we share each other. We love you, and we love each other.”
“Oh… Loving is sharing?”
Sam held his smile at Max. “Yeah,” he nodded, “loving is sharing.”
Max looked away, a little beleaguered. “I think I’m in love.”
“Really?” Sam asked. “With who?”
“You mean from kindergarten?”
“Uh-huh,” Max nodded. “We shared animal crackers together.”