It Is Not Desire. Instead It Is

Every Time You Love Someone, You Put Not Just Your Faith In Them, But Your Faith In Everything To The Test.

Measure The Hope Of That Moment, That Feeling. Everything Else Will Be Measured Against It.

Here," She Said. "this Is For You." "i Didn't Really Get You Anything," I Sputtered. "i Mean, I Didn't Know That You Were Going To Be Here, And--" "don't Worry. It's Your Embarrassment At Not Having The Thought That Counts.

Such A Strange Thing, To Hold A Six-year-old's Hand. Especially A Six-year-old You've Only Just Met. A Toddler Will Grab Hold Of Your Finger, And Someone Your Own Age Will Clasp On To Your Whole Hand, But With Six-year-olds It's Something In Between, This Acknowledgment That They Can't Be The One To Take Hold, So You Have To Do All The Holding, Folding Your Hand Around Theirs, Feeling So Much Bigger And Responsible.

Do I Really Have To Find A Word For It? Can't It Just Be What It Is?