Tonight I sat, with a little brown-eyed boy curled up under my arm, and I whispered a story to him. And I remembered what it felt like, to be whispered to, safe in another's arms, a child. I remember my Mum stroking my hair as I fell asleep. I remember my Dad letting me lean in to him as he watched the news. I remember hands that held me tight. And as this little boy mouthed the words of the story I was reading, wide-eyed and sharing my warmth, I realised.
To love another is to be a child. To be open to a world of possibilities, to trust with your whole self, to dream of what one can create. Asking "how?" and "why?"  Seeking love, and joy.
So much simplicity, so much beauty, so much imagination.

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