Banana Bread

A young child asks his mother, “How do you know love exists?” “Why do you ask?” She replied. “Because I can’t see it,” he says. True enough she thinks. Now, how is she going to answer this question? She could give him her adult definition of love as the most incredibly powerful quality in human nature. Love, the intense feeling of affection towards someone, or something that nourishes the soul and the absence of it wither hope and even happiness. But talking to her three year old, in this moment, as a parent trying to find once again the best possible answer to her toddler’s reoccurring philosophical question. She has to pause and let go of her adultness and try to bring the definition of love to its simplest root. She says to him, “You cannot see love, but you can feel it. Love is what you feel when you wake up in the morning and you run to give me a cuddle. Love is what you feel when I rock you in my arms all night long because you have a cough and stuffy nose. Love is when your dad plays hockey with you and when I bake your favorite banana bread.” “Oh, ok,” says her son as he happily, hops off her lap and runs in the backyard towards the little pool. Obviously satisfied with his answer, the mother smiles.