Late last night I watched Buffy jab another demon in the heart with a cool red Gerber-like ax blade and picky (and wished I could get that thing at the local Ace Hardware). As the slain monster disintegrated into a brown puff of sparkle dust I thought about our conversation that took place earlier that day, apropos of nothing really.
“The love is in your heart and stays in your heart. And then sometimes it pops out and flies flies flies flies,” she said while holding her arms up at her sides and flapping her hands like chicken wings.
“It flies flies to your family or other people and pops into their hearts and stays there.”
“You can’t see it or touch it or smell it but you just feel it sometimes.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“Yes, it is. It’s a very good thing,” she said. “It pops out and flies around until it finds someone in your family, mom, dad, aunts, uncles, and anyone, and then it pops into their hearts and stays there. I can feel my heart beating sometimes.”
“You can?” I asked.
“Yes, and I can feel yours too.”
“And is that a good thing?” I asked.
“Yes it is. It beats to keep you going.”