Do I Love You? No. I Love My Image of You

When she returned post noon, I squeezed her in affection, the morning tantrum almost amnesiac for both of us by now. But while she was hugging me, she suddenly said in all honesty, “when you love me, I like you a lot, you are my favourite” hugging me even tighter. “But” she continued tentatively, “when you get angry at me, I don’t like you at all. So, then I can’t decide which is correct?” she glanced up as if to check if I may be angry again. Of course, I wasn’t. If anything, I was blown away by her innocent and succinct emotional processing of relationship dynamics.