The Sweetest Words

I was babysitting Sylvan and Irene for a couple hours this evening.  We were eating dinner, and Sylvan and I found out we both love salt.  I told him about a friend of mine who loves salt, too, and has pink salt and black salt (hi Frank ^^) and Sylvan said, "Quand tu reviens, pars-que je veux que tu reviens, tu peut apporter du sel rose et sel noir."  ("When you come back, because I want you to come back, you can bring some pink salt and black salt.")

"I want you to come back."

Those are the sweetest words, especially from a child, but hearing them from a child, from Sylvan, pulls on my heartstrings.  It's a curse, a command, and a blessing rolled into one.  How can I not obey?  But then:  How many children have I loved and left behind?  How many, not understanding time and space, wondered where I went and why?  Did they feel sad?  How many remember me or my love at all?   

Sylvan, I wish I could stay.  I want you to remember that I love you and think you are sweet and funny and adventurous and brave.  I want someone to love me as simply and easily as you do and remember me forever.  But you are not mine, and even you will grow up and leave someday.  (Oh, what kind of young man will you make?)  I torture myself wondering how many months it will take before you forget my name.  Can I get back in time?  Will it feel the same?  Is there a point?

Why does love have to feel so fleeting?  Why is simplicity and innocence so transient?  Why do the most beautiful things only last for a moment? 

I hope that in the next life all of the soul-connections we make now will be remembered. 
I will find all my children again.