In my twenties, I had another terrible therapist (therapists!) who concluded that since my mother never says “I love you” (at least not in the same way that other mothers do), there was going to be a limit to my ability to feel love. Love for someone, loved by someone. I was limited. And then on the very last night of my twenties, when I held my new puppy in my arms. I broke down in tears. Because I had fallen in love. Not in a limited amount. I fell fully in love with the creature I had known for all of nine hours.
I remember Lily licking the tears from my face.
THIS! EYE! RAIN! YOU! MAKE! IS! FANTASTIC! I! LOVE! THE! SALTY! TASTE! YOU! SHOULD! MAKE! THIS! EVERY! DAY!
The realization was overwhelming —— there was nothing wrong with me! There were no limits to what I could feel!
Lily and the Octopus, P22
Steven Rowley
ISBN 978-1-5011-2622-2
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