I feel deep again. -Asher, 6

I'm taking a shower when I hear a little voice say, "mommy, I feel deep again."

I peek from behind the shower curtain to see Asher standing there all sheepish with his hands in his pockets. 

"What does that mean?" I ask. 

He looks down for a second. "Mommy, do you buhmember when you said I was deep?"

And then I did. Buhmember. He crawled on my lap weeks ago and said, "mommy sometimes I just can't sleep because I need to sleep by you. And sometimes...I miss you even when I'm with you. What's that called?"  

I swear good people, I'm not making any of this up. 

"Oh buddy, it just means you're deep. You feel everything really deeply and that's good, but it can feel hard. You have a lot of deep love in your heart." 

He just now popped in again and said, "mommy I still feel deep. And I want to go back to the old house."

Everything about my nostalgic, loving little man runs deep. I can't believe I get to be his mom. He's an intense little fella which is hard to parent at times but I wouldn't trade an ounce of his food allergy riddled, wild man, deep little self. 

He loves hard and unafraid and I want to be like him. I'm so scared to love deep, with my arms outstretched. I'm a runner. Intimacy leaves me cowering in inadequacy. I avoid. 

And look what I've created from this body that flees. A body that runs headlong into love.