Don’t worry—John and I are still very much in love and married. We’re not going anywhere. But I did fall in love a few weeks ago. And what do I mean, exactly?
Merriam-Webster defines love as “a strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties”. This strong affection can come from romantic feelings, admiration, benevolence, or common interests. Synonyms for love include affection, attachment, devotion, fondness, and passion. Even the British use it as informal term of address, as in, “Thank you, love.” Love is also a score of zero in tennis. Honestly, we use the word way too much.
But I think I did fall in love a few weeks ago, as in a strong affection for another arising out of admiration. Exactly eight anothers—ten if you count the dogs.
Remember my friends Savannah and Jordan, and their six kids? I’m still reflecting on their visit, marveling at their well-behaved kids and dogs. Honestly, John and I took a few days to recover from the busyness, the noise, and the chaos. But we miss the love.
While Jordan and Savannah marveled at the pine trees, we marveled at their patience. They gushed over the small town charm and friendliness, but we gasped at the creative ways they kept their children in check. Savannah told me as soon as their car parked in the driveway, they all missed Grand Cane. My heart gushed! And I told her, “Grand Cane misses you too.” I wasn’t lying.
We visited By Faith Coffee House and wiped out their baked goods—I’m sure Suzanne enjoyed that influx of revenue for two days straight. The children chatted up the locals, who couldn’t believe the manners on all six children ages three to eight. Our procession strolled down Main Street, reminding me of a small parade. We gazed at the merchants, and people nodded their heads at all the “yes ma’ams” and “no sirs” coming from our merry band.
The honey merchant called out to Savannah. “Ma’am, are these all your kids?” When Savannah assured him they were, he asked again. “All of them? All one, two, three…six of them?” She confirmed his counting prowess and he pressed a bottle of honey into her hands. “Here, ma’am, you take this, on the house.” We puzzled over the man’s thought process behind the gift. Savannah declared the man had studied her tired face and great waves of sympathy washed over his body. I suspected he was part of a large family and admired Savannah’s strength and devotion. Maybe it was both.
Our friends departed the land of moon pies and Crawtators, but my memories swirled around my heart and my head, like a cozy fleece blanket warming my soul. Which memory stood out the most? Was it sweet little Zola asking to sit by me every time my behind hit a chair? Was it Cooper’s lovely drawings, still posted on my refrigerator? It could have been Logan’s funny stories or Emma Beth’s fashion statements. Maybe it was the hugs from sweet Detlef? Goodness, it could have been any of the excited exclamations from three-year-old Silas—that’s such a precious age. It might have been the firm yet gentle words from their parents, constantly reminding them to wash hands and flush the toilet and say thank you.
No, I think it was Silas’ nickname for his mother, the one he called out so many times during their visit. Modern day language defines the bomb as “something or someone that is excellent or very impressive”. Silas called Savannah “Moms The Bombs”, or sometimes just “The Bombs”. And I couldn’t agree more.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1985 and lives in Grand Cane, Louisiana. She also writes books, which are for sale at www.jannfranklin.com. You can reach her at email@example.com