Thirst

Imagine you’re standing on an island, looking at water on all sides. You think that this little piece of real estate, which represents your capacity for love, is all there is. Then you have your first child, and a bubbling happens off in the distance and a giant new island appears. You realize that the new island was part of your heart all along, just submerged. And then you think you could never love another child like this one, but you look off to the left, and a brand-new island appears: your second child. And your heart expands even more. You’re not borrowing from or shutting down other parts to feel more love. It’s an additive process, like reclaiming land from the sea.