Be my wife

This afternoon, Diego cried piteously over the fact that he cannot marry me when he grows up. "But I want you to be my wife!" he wailed. "You are the most beautiful!"

The poor little guy. I remember a similar conversation very well, around the age of five, with my own father. My dad was tucking me into bed for the night and explaining why he couldn't marry me, because he already was married to my mom. I remember it boggled my mind at the time. How could I not marry my dad? He was the best!

The feelings were that of the desire to be with him, and my parents, forever. Taken care of. Safe. Loved. Not that I could have explained that then. But I can so easily remember those emotions, and the feeling of being a little scared that I couldn't marry my dad when I grew up. What else was there?

And that is exactly what Diego displayed this afternoon. "I don't want anyone else!" he bawled. "I want you!"

And you know, it makes me feel a little sad too. It is hard to remember that it won't "always be like this". Life changes gradually, and I know it is and feels normal, but trying to imagine that change now hurts.

I am reminded of the time when Diego was two months old, when I sat in our room, holding my beautiful baby, and wept miserably - grieving over the horrible truth that he would never be two months old again. So silly, I know, but my throat hurts and my eyes smart just thinking of it.

My mom has said something to the effect of, "You love them all along the way." Love grows and changes with them. I love Diego just as fiercely and affectionately as I did when he was a baby, only he is four years old now.

An earnest little four year old who wants to marry his mama.

I love him so much, it hurts. ♥