PAGE 3
Religion, philosophy, greeting cards, self-help books—they all tout the power of love. Being a chronic and earnest spiritual seeker, I have tried to love selflessly in all my significant relationships. I came closest to feeling and activating unconditional love as a mother. I frequently have given it as a friend and a sister, sometimes as a colleague. I fail at it at often (okay, daily) as a wife.

But with my grandson, blissful and bountiful unconditional love flows from my every cell. I have so much of it I fear I'll drown the poor little guy, so I have to give the excess away. I put Will in the stroller and parade up the street to get my morning coffee, exuding grandmotherly abundance. I give the woman begging in front of the bank several dollars; I cheer up the grumpy barista guy; I buy flowers for my son and daughter-in-law. When I am across the continent, at home in New York, I can still feel the chains of love that connect me to my grandson. I'd do anything for the little guy, and if it weren't for those pesky parents, I might even overdo it. But that's my job this time—to celebrate the mere existence of another human being; to focus on what's already perfect about him; to help him see himself as I see him. What a gift to experience—at least once in this lifetime—the full power of unconditional love. And it feels as good as the saints and prophets advertise it.

NEXT STORY

Comment

LONG FORM
ONE WORD