Love is…

This afternoon, a tired young man stood in the rain outside the school and waited for his little sister to appear. He waited patiently at first, and then less so, and then not so much patiently as with a rather soggy feeling of annoyance at his sister’s failure to appear. Eventually, it dawned on him that his sister was not actually in the school. That she might, in fact, be home. Since, he finally remembered, Mama had kept her home sick that morning and it was unlikely she had magically gotten better by afternoon. And so, with soggy boots and a soggy coat and a very soggy hat, the tired young man trudged his way home. Alone.

Being a typical nine year old young man, he of course had to tell his Mama all about his patient waiting — just in case Mama had been worried about the lateness of his arrival, of course. Mama duly heaped on the appreciation for his most gentlemanly patience and consideration for his sibling. And then, being nine, he of course had to tell his little sister all about how his patient waiting — just in case she had failed to hear the story the first time. The couch is so very far away from the front door, after all. She might not have heard. Little Sister, in her wisdom, threw her arms around him and thanked him for remembering her even if he really sort of did forget.

And then she made him this:

It’s made of plasticene and a (clean) styrofoam tray from the grocery store. Notice all the hearts? And the colours? They’re shaped like her favourite peanut-butter cookies, right down to being pressed down with the tines of a fork. Except they are made of plasticene instead of peanut butter cookie dough since, you see, she isn’t old enough to use the oven by herself. But that’s not the best part. The best part is what’s written on the back, pressed in with pencil first so you can feel it (which makes it better, apparently), then carefully traced over with a Sharpie:

Dear K,

Thak you for beign such a gentolman you are my hearo. I love you.

Your dear sister B

Now that is love.


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