Love is not silent.

Here's a story that will tell you something about my family of origin:

One day, when my daughter was 5, she was sitting up on the kitchen counter next to me while i was doing somesuch or other. She turns to me and says "Mommy, when i get older will you stop telling me you love me?"

Me (wondering where the hell that question came from): "No honey, I'll never stop telling you that i love you. "

Her: "How come Grams and Bo don't tell you they love you?" (These are my parents, her grandparents.)

Me (realizing that we had just come from visiting them, and that this child is observing EVERYTHING): "They never did honey."

Her: "That's sad."

I still feel sad (i think for me) when i think about that conversation. And i tell my daughter i love her at least once a day.