This is love.

This is my mom with her new pooch. His name is Duncan. He's a Pembroke Welsh Corgi and he was adopted on Mother's Day by two people with hearts much larger than his ears. Since my brother and I are 24 and 20, respectively, it seemed appropriate that a new baby be given to her on Mother's Day.

That's my dad on the right with Baby Duncs on his belly. That look on my dad's face is one of pure love.
I have yet to meet two people who so completely give their love away.
Not that love is given away, rather it is energy and never dissipates, just changes form. The more that you give away, the more you have yourself.
If you can imagine that they love their dog in this deep, unconditional way, just imagine the love cast upon their children.
Frank and I were born with hypothetical silver spoons. We weren't given fancy things, just simple toys and meals, but we were given this ability to love without reserve. A deep understanding that loving relationships yield the enormous satisfaction of a meaningful life.
Growing up, the best Saturday nights were spent in our living room, listening to Van Morrison in the summertime. The windows open and the humidity abound. The sounds of crickets in the creek drifting in through the open windows. My mom and dad in their appropriate chairs with their books and my brother and I laying the the floor with the dogs, just soaking up the thick love that is felt during shared relaxation in the heat of summer. I slept so well on nights like those.
We spent our last night in that house where our parents nourished our hearts about two months ago. It was May-something. My parents strapped the childhood couch onto the top of their Subaru and drove it over to my brother's house. Frank drove the old lawnmower to the neighbor's house about a mile away and my parents followed in the 'Ru with the old couch tied down. At some point during the trip, my mom was confused as to why my brother kept turning around to look at the car. She asked my dad, "Do you think he knows that it's us?" My dad straightforwardly replied, "How many Subarus do you think there are on this road with couches tied to the roof?"
The relationship that my family shares makes daily trials and tribulations transparent. They're always with me.