Another 52 Weeks

“… What I felt for my daughter bypassed the language center of my brain altogether. It was a jolt, an electric sizzle that connected my head to my heart. It wasn’t hearts and flowers; in fact, much of the time it felt nearly unbearable, like blood starting to flow into a frozen extremity. My feelings for my daughter constricted my chest and kept me up nights, worrying about whether she was getting enough to eat, to drink, whether she was happy. Whether she was still breathing. Did I love her? The word seemed puny in the face of such an intense and fundamental sense of connection with another human being …” by Harriet Brown … and I feel the same way about my son, 52 Weeks a year … Melanie Acevedo - February 26, 2010