old fashioned love

A poetic dialog with myself:
(this is inspired by Joanna's post)

Everyone keeps a pot in there closet. Tall and skiney or short and fat they all hold about the same amount of love. Some have spots or stripes while many are one solid color from top to bottom. Mine is purple, with little blue hearts. Its kind of short but also wide and the top instead of being round is more like a triangle. I keep it in my closet always and collect things in it. I collect my first morning hello's and last evening good night's. Last time I was home I got a few licks from my dog that I keep in there. There is lots in there from Nonna, every embrace I ever remember, every screamed "I love you." From my mom there is lots of worry, because her love never seems to come out just straight but more a little slanted when she says "Stefanie drive safely or I will kill you." When I look deeper down I find a few things from my father very odd things at there best. A small smile or remember the time he bought me a new printer because he knew I could not afford one myself. I put that in there because I knew he loved me then. I put a few things in there from you too. The last comment you made on my blog. The post you put on your blog when you knew I was feeling down. The fact that you let me into your family. Just reminders of these things. That way one day when I am under slept and under fed I can sit by my closet door and look down into the pot and smile. Smile because I know I have collected a lot of good old fashioned love.