Love...let me count the ways

When I was a kid my grandmother used to play this game with me called, "Love, let me count the ways."

Every Friday and Saturday night, after a bath, she would sit by the edge of my bed and make me put my feet in her lap and my hands in hers. Then the game would begin.

She would methodically go through each toe and tell me one thing that she loved about me at that particular moment. She would ask me to do the same with the corresponding finger on my hand. Sometimes I came up with crazy shit, "I love that Blowpops just invented a new flavor!" and sometimes I was a bit more profound, "I love the fact that I am able to walk in my new ballet shoes and no one else can seem to master them!" Other times it was, or it seemed, mundane, "I love you, my family, and my dog..."

But every Friday and Saturday night, from the time I was about three to the time I was ten, we played this game.

This was a game that taught me to love. This was a game that when I saw a particularly pretty flower blooming, I would say, "I don't know if I will love that tonight but I love it now...should I take off my shoes?"

I guess my whole point in this post is to realize who you love and who, exactly, taught you to love. Or to do what my grandmother did with me...find something to love at least twice a week, if not more.

My grandmother crashed into a horrible cycle of suicide and depression and eventually did succumb to that.

I miss someone who takes the time to lay in the grass with me and count my toes...even if they don't have ten things to say about how much they l0ve me.