“Can't you hear it?" you said. "When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth.”

“When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth.”

“You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you,” you said with a shrug. “All you have to do is say my name and I know.”“How?”When I looked down at you, I was struck by how much of myself I could see in the shape of your eyes, in the light of your smile. “Sa Cassidy,” you instructed.“Cassidy.”“Say…Ursula.”“Ursula,” I parroted.“Now….,” and you pointed to your own chest.“Willow.”“Can’t you hear it?” you said. ” When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.”

“I know someone loves me from how they say my name. Like with my mom and dad, when they say "Benjamin" it's like my name is safe in their mouth.”

“....and I'll know that this is what you live for - to hear someone say. "Let's go home," to hear someone you love call your name.”

“When someone loves you, the way they talk about you is different. You feel safe and comfortable.”