January 24th, 2010 by A.G.J.
Our three year old daughter, Frances, sat on the potty enumerating her best friends. Dashiell is my best friend, and Revell is my best friend. These are her teenage cousins. I pointed out that she had a lot of best friends, each day bringing with it the revelation of another best friend. Sometimes it’s Daddy, sometimes Mommy. Often it’s her grandmothers. The other day our potty was a great friend because it’s warm (unlike the downstairs loo which apparently is not).
As her legs swung about and we both waited patiently, suddenly Frances’ eyes widened and she inhaled her breath, You know who else is my best friend? Who? I asked. MYSELF! she beamed. Seemingly effortlessly Frances landed on an essential truth: our ability to love one another is directly proportional with our ability to love ourselves. If we don’t love ourselves enough to be our own best friend, then chances are good our life is not.
We are all worth loving. Even a three year old knows that.