I am driving the kids home from the babysitter's house. Waiting at a stoplight, Puppy turns his face away from the rain pounding on the car window to look at me.
"I will be big."
"Mm-hmm," I answer absent-mindedly.
"When I am big, I will hold her."
Ah, we're talking about his baby sister. "Sure," I reply.
"I will be big and I will pick her up."
"That's right. When you are big you can pick her up." He's trying to tell me something, but I'm not sure exactly what. And, truthfully, my mind is on the post-election news on the radio, and on dinner, and on the traffic light that will not change.
"When she is scared, I will hold her. And I will say, 'It's alright, Firefly. You don't have to be scared.' I will make it better when she cries."
Suddenly grateful for the red light, I turn toward the little boy looking expectantly at me from his car seat. Since he became the "big brother," I sometimes forget how young he still is. I think of how often lately I've scolded him for making her cry when he scares her as he plays, how I scoop her up to safety with a frustrated sigh.
"Yes," I answer, reaching out to pat his leg. "I think you will be very good at holding her and making it better."
Yes, I know you're trying. Yes, I know there are still so many limits to what you can do. Yes, that is okay.
Love is someone just waiting for the day they will be big enough to be the one who comforts you. Happy Love Thursday, everyone.