Vol. 36 - Keeping the Love Spark Lit

On Affection

Nearly every single day when we pick our son up from preschool, he gives and receives somewhere around half a dozen hugs. His friends and classmates, his teachers, the school aides; as soon as mom and dad are spotted at the edge of his school’s playground, he’s either running to someone or someone is running to him, arms wide open, hug imminent. It’s gotten to a point where my wife and I build in a few extra minutes to the daily routine, knowing we can’t leave until all of the hugs are distributed and received.

The hugs are just one little part of a thing I call his “Love Spark” and, as I continue down my path as a parent, I notice that almost every kid has it to some extent. Kids love love. They love giving love and they love getting love. They’re not nearly as afraid as we adults to tell or show the people they love just how much they love them.

And as I watch my son grow, I wonder how long his Love Spark will burn as bright as it does right now.

Thinking back to parts of my own evolution, from little boy to kid to young man, I remember how the ability to articulate those emotions ebbed and flowed; from telling my friends that I loved them to being chastised as a preteen and teenager for being “gay” for showing any sort of male-on-male affection (sorry, it was the 90s) to landing somewhere in between in college—where a fist bump and a brief, single-armed embrace was as close as we allowed ourselves to get—and finally coming full circle, to where I am today, unafraid to tell the people I love how much they mean to me and how happy I am that they are in my life, unafraid to wrap people in my embrace and squeeze the hell out of them.

And I wonder if there is anything that Emily and I can do to try and make sure that part in the middle, which will surely happen to some extent (except, of course, for using “gay” as a pejorative), doesn’t permanently affect our son’s ability to show and accept love.

I want to raise a son who is never afraid to tell his friends how much they mean to him, to realize that weakness comes in all shapes and sizes and lives in every single one of us, and that there is nothing unmanly about shedding tears. I want to raise a son who is in touch with the entire spectrum of his emotions and who is willing to allow himself to be vulnerable. I want to raise him to realize that feeling love and affection is as scary as it is wonderful, but the joys and contentment of the latter far outweigh the potential pitfalls of the former. I want to raise a son who will shower the children he may someday have with love, affection, and praise.

Of course, I know that someday very soon he’s going to reach that phase where coolness usurps earnestness and where giving your friends a hug and letting them know how much you love them is second only to his parents on the grand scale of lameness.

I just hope that Emily and I can keep a little bit of that Love Spark burning through those years, even if it’s dormant, somewhere deep inside him, so that someday the spark can light up his life and the lives around him the way it does now.