I love dinnertime at our house. It's the one time during each day when no matter how crazy or chaotic our individual days have been, we can all take a breather, sit down in one place, and talk. Together.
There is much varying conversation to be had at that rectangle each night, but whether it consists of "Important Somethings" or "Many Nothings", it's a true blessing to be together to share whatever comes to mind with one another.
Tonight's conversational journey was more of a meandering stroll with everyone stopping by one topic or another, each pointing out a bit of this and a bit of that. Dan and I shared pieces of our day, commenting on stresses and laughing off annoyances; our dialog punctuate by the occasional insertion of the random Childhood Offerings so kindly put forth by the girls: "Daddy, I have green beans on my plate." ("Yes, I see that. Isn't that nice?") "Mommy, I like to rhyme words that aren't real words." ("That's a mighty fun thing to do, cher. Truck-bluck. I like to do that too.") "Daddy, our roof won't fall off, will it?" ("No, I don't think we need to worry about that happening.")
But then, through the hodgepodge of daily domesticity came this:
"Mommy, did you know I love having a twin?"
("You do? It's a very special thing, having a twin. I'm glad you love it.")
"Mommy, did you know that when I hug my sister, it makes a heart?"
("No, I didn't know that. Does it, really?")
"Yes. See?" Across the table from us, the girls hugged each other tightly, and then rested their heads together for a moment with smiles on their faces. "See?"
I'm not sure what exactly she meant by 'Heart'. Maybe she means that there is a love between them that goes beyond words or even understanding; an abiding love that forms a connection of sorts when they are physically near to one another, leaning on each other, and offering support for the other; a completeness to be had just by being nearby. A heart.
Yes. I see that. Very clearly (and with some small amount of jealousy). I see that. And I love it.