Kali and I were on our way up from Florida yesterday. About 6 hours into the trip my chest felt tight. I began to massage it. Immediately she asked from the back seat (behind the passenger side), “You okay, Mama?”
“I am, baby, just tired.”
“Your love hurts?” She asked.
I smiled and looked at her quickly, “No, sweetheart. It’s just tenderness in my chest! I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Your love hurts. I know it does. My love hurts. A lot.”
“Kali Bug, Love doesn’t hurt.”
She began to cry. “Yes it does, Mama. My love hurts. We went to see my baby brother and he didn’t come home with us….”
She sobbed in a way that her heart was vibrating into my body. I felt the break. I began to cry. We have had an emotional week. We are frustrated. Last night she cried while holding him.
So I drove several miles while she composed herself. We released. She spoke of her promise to her little brother many years ago. (She’s mentioned this many times to which I believe her). I turned my IPod on to her favorite song, Alicia Keys’ Girl on Fire. We played it over and over for an hour. We danced and sang loudly in our seats. We made funny faces. We went on to sing other songs.
Then the love didn’t hurt so much. It smiled in gratitude for saving it. And she was happy for a little while longer. There is nothing a long car ride and great music can’t fix temporarily.
(Photo is of Kali and her little brother as we were saying goodbye). The bond they share, with just meeting this week face to face, is transcending of time and space.