A bubby’s love

I drop my suitcases, and even though I’m an overweight mom of five, I’m running, running, to my Bubby’s house.

I knock on the door, and there she is. We’re hugging each other, then schmoozing and laughing, both our eyes alight with love and enjoyment.

This. This is what I traveled for. This is why I left my kids with my husband for a week. I have a Bubby. I know I’m fortunate (at my age!), and we enjoy each other’s company so much.

But my Inner Child still exists, the child who was rejected and ignored by her.