Just now as I sat down to write, Bean came up to me with a dishtowl. He'd been playing with his digger in the kitchen. I'm in the livingroom, sunk deep into the comfy white armchair, my feet up, sun slanting in through the bay window where I keep all my potted plants. He said, "I gonna clean your feet, mama."
And then he gently wiped down my feet and legs with the towel. He then proceeded to tenderly kiss my legs and ankles. Hovering especially over my 'owies'--the small scars from recent and not so recent encounters with blackberry bushes or bike pedals.
I had no idea love could feel like this.