I just wanted to take a moment to wallow in the unique feeling of Mother Love.
You know that moment when a face is presented to you, full of concentration and babbling intensity, but you simply aren’t listening because you are overwhelmed with the pangs of love?
That irresistible, stronger-than-heroin need to take the small, soft cheeks in your hand and kiss them. Over and over. To inhale their scent and drink in their unblemished perfection.
The times when that small face, so totally unaware of its beauty and impact, tauntingly close to your own, just simply HAS to be touched. Why is it that the softness of those cheeks and the enormity of those eyes have the combined power to destroy a mother’s reason?
It is the warm nuzzle into that neckline and those tiny arms entangling you which brings you metaphorically and literally to your knees.
What I wouldn’t do for my Faces Made For Kissing.