Last year a friend told me about the celebration her family created for her birthday. There was chocolate cake, and two kinds of ice cream. The kids had written cards, probably with her husband leaning over them, and the messages were sweet. 

 

Her youngest drew pictures of everyone in sizes according to how important they were. Mom was the biggest, with Dad a close second. The bossy older brother came next, and the helpful sister was holding the hand of the artist. He was smallest of all, in fact so short that his head took up less space than his sister's protective fingers. 

 

My friend hugged each child, and thanked them for the party. Then it was time to blow out the candles. 

 

"I know what you will wish for!" the four year old blurted out. "To get away from us!" Everyone laughed, because she was vocal about her eagerness for a break. 

 

But she told me that the look on her son's face was not joyful. It held the shadow of knowing that the person he loved more than anyone found him to be a burden. Someone to retreat from. He let out a small sigh. 

 

My friend was sharing this story with me as a chance to hear it herself. I sat quietly, waiting for her to speak. 

 

"I don't want him to believe that he's a nuisance." She looked close to tears. 

 

I reached over and put my hand on hers. 

 

"I love them! So why is that not the loudest message I give?" She almost shouted. 

 

We were startled by the clash of a dish breaking, and the temporarily muted conversations of diners around us. 

 

I have sometimes wondered how the proportion of my own words play out. Do I clutter up the airspace in my home with reminders about chores, or homework? Or do I give priority to the affirmation of how incredibly precious each of them are? 

 

I have seen those clever word clouds, that express the quantity of times a given set of syllables shows up in our conversations. What would mine look like? Would verbs like love take prominence? As I hustled Benjamin out the door this morning I stressed brushing his teeth more than how proud I am that he is succeeding in this internship. Maybe I can log a flurry of different sentiments when he gets home.