Who are you?

The other day, the kids went outside to play in the yard.  About 1.5 seconds later they were back at the door.  ”Mommy, Mommy, come see, come see, COME AND SEE.”

And there, written on the sidewalk in front of our house, was this:

What’s this?  A declaration of love, impulsively scrawled and left unsigned?  But we had just been outside not an hour before!  And we hadn’t even heard the gate!  Who had done it?  Where had they gone?  And would they be back?

Well, I don’t know who did it. Or when or why or how (Seriously, who did it?  And when and why and how?).  But I do know that the kids were beside themselves.  We had a pretty lengthy discussion, complete with lists, of who might have written it, ranging from sweet neighbor girls that we’ve known practically since Zach was born to a boy in Sophie’s class who lives down the street (nevermind that he doesn’t necessarily have such studied penmanship, she was holding fast to this option) to their grandma (Mom, WAS it you?) to just a random stranger full of good will and on and on.

And so Zach did the only reasonable thing to do when you get an I love you.  He responded Okay, yes, but who ARE you?

And now we wait.

Well, we waited.  We played and ate dinner and played some more.  Then we got ready for bed.  We went to sleep.  By the next morning, both messages had been mostly rubbed away and we still didn’t know who had done it.  Zach was driven a little crazy by this (but who, who wrote it, who?) and was not quieted by my words of wisdom extraordinaire.  And who can blame him?  Sometimes it’s just enough to know we are loved, Zach.

Pffffft!  It may be enough sometimes but not on this day for this nine year old boy.   I amended those words of wisdom to Well, we don’t always get what we want.  But we get what we need, to which he responded I know you stole that from a Rolling Stones song (thanks, Zach’s hip guitar instructor, way to introduce my kid to one of the very best songs ever and thus undermine my obnoxious habit of quoting famous lyrics as my own words of wisdom).  Which didn’t get us the answer we wanted but did get us inside to play that song for Eli and Sophie who had never heard it in entirety, which was darn near as sublime.

And then, later that next day as we played in the yard and pondered it yet again, I said to the kids  ”Instead of asking who they are, maybe we should have just said We love you, too.“

And from Zach:  But how do we know if we love them if we don’t know who they really are?

Ah.  Yes.  Right.

And he didn’t even steal it from a song.