'I Love Mom and Dad'

Staring at the messy words made with grubby hands and a dirty crayon, I wonder of it's significance. It is special I suppose, to contain such innocence before angry pimples, embarrassing talks and stubborn minds. But it holds no weight, for such deep words are written as merely practice. As a message you won't remember. Knowledge you were told.

But as I glance at a small upturned sandal, I realize it is love, in it's purest form, to know love before understanding it. To convey it without hesitance, to trace the letters I Love Mom and Dad and feel right and proud and satisfied. To feel love before memories.

It is still love.