She wanted to know if it was ok that she liked feeling sad.
"What do you mean? Do you make yourself sad?"
The kid hunched her shoulders and looked up at me with eyes that are blue, green and yellow. I'm impressed that three colors can exist in such small spaces.
"Sometimes. I like to feel it."
"Do you like to feel happy too?" I asked because I had to.
"Yeah," she nodded a little too enthusiastically.
"But it doesn't feel as big as sad."
"As big? You mean, like as powerful?"
All three colors in her eyes lit up. "Yeah. It's not as powerful."
"Well...it sounds like you just like to feel things. That's ok."
"It's not weird?"
"...No. I don't think so."
Her shoulders drooped again, and she hung her head until her chin touched her chest.
"Are you being sad right now?" I asked.
"Yes," she sighed, hopelessly.
I wondered if it made her happy to be so sad, or if it was kind of a let down to have permission. And as my mind raced I let myself feel the worry, the fear, and the blithesome wonder of having a kid who welcomes her emotions. We were quiet with each other, like people who fall silent at restaurants when the food finally comes, tasting the what we felt, so many big feelings in such small spaces.