Hugs and Kisses

I grew up never hearing the words "I love you." I can probably count on one hand, maybe two, how many times my dad has said that to me. The same thing goes for my grandmother, who to me is my mom. I never really felt unloved though. I knew they loved me because they fed me and housed me and loved me.

One time when I was younger, I asked my dad why he never said "I love you." He told me he didn't need to say it because he told me by showing me. I accepted that and moved on.

My mom left me when I was a baby. I still, to this day, cannot understand how a woman can do that to her child but nonetheless, it happens. My mom rarely kept in touch. The few letters I got from her over the years always proclaimed how much she loved me and missed me. I never believed her because if she loved me and missed me so much then why didn't I ever see her? And why did I run into her one day and her not even recognize that I was her daughter? So with my mom, my dad's theory proved true. She protested her love to me in all these letters but when it came down to it, her actions spoke much louder.

In meeting Allen, I met someone who has no problem expressing his love. He tells me probably 15 times a day that he loves me. And he tells his parents and they tell him. But it was hard for me to adjust. Of course now, I tell him just as much as he tells me but to this day, I still cannot say those words to my dad.

Allen is also a touchy, feeling type, most of the time. He likes to hold my hand and put his arm around me. And he always makes sure to kiss me hello and goodbye when we are leaving or coming home. I love that about him and I hope he's always that way.

There was a point to all this but I have forgotten it. So I suppose that is all for today.