My grandson has a sweet thing he does every once in a while. He holds up his thumb and index finger, showing a small space between them and says “I love you this much.” I, in turn, sadly say “Only that much?” He replies “No, I love you this much” and he brings his arms around his back until they touch, showing me he couldn’t love me any more. I’ve loved my husband with different kinds of love since the moment I met him. The hopeful love of wanting him to love me in return. Mutual love, in spite of everything love, neglected love, and love that stood the test of time and remained even when I didn’t like him at all. Grieving love came way too soon and now missing you love that recalls only what was good about him and us. I love my children with a love that changed from cherishing, to tough, to acceptance for who they are as adults. The love I hope will never change is that childlike love my grandson demonstrates which says I’ll love you with all the love I have, no matter what you say or do, because I can.