At what point do we stop loving unconditionally?

I watch relationships crumble. Marriages struggle and fail. People fight; friendships end. And it makes me sad.

Our place is a wreck right now. Clothestowelstoysbagsmakeuphairproductsblanketsdirtyplatesgarbage everywhere. It frustrates the hell outta me, but that's what happens when 3 people come to visit and you don't have a guest room. I made my way through the jungle that used to be our living room to brush my teeth in my bathroom. On my mirror, Asha drew me a picture (with dry erase marker, so it was okay) and wrote, "I hope you feel better. I love you." And the annoyance of the fact they're going to be here the rest of the week melted away.

I'm nothing to that child. I'm her aunt's roommate. And yet, she treats me like family. She hugs me and is excited to see me. She wished several times that I could come to Disney with them. She's drawn me three pictures already, and she tells me she loves me every day.

When do we lose that? When does love become conditional on whether or not you pick up your dirty towels? Why are adults so afraid? I look at Asha and I see this amazing innocence. She could care less if I have a short temper or road rage. She just loves because that's what's in her heart.

I wish we didn't lose that as we age. I wish cynicism would stop taking over. I wish people weren't so selfish. I wish I could have that same fearlessness of a five-year-old. But I don't. And I'm not sure if I can get it back.

This wasn't supposed to end on a down note. It's just that I see this giant heart and it makes me very aware of how separate we've all become.