Our family is a multiracial one.  My wife is Black.  I am White, and our 3 year old is Biracial.

In our house, we see color, but we don’t.  What I mean by that is that we’re not these people who pretend that skin color and race don’t exist.  We see that we have different skin shades and tones.  My wife knows she’s Black as do I as does our son.  I know I’m White as does my wife as does our son.  And, our son has stated that he is White, which he bases purely on his acute powers of observation and on the fact that his skin shade is lighter even than mine.  Later in life, our son may decide he is something else, but that is for him to decide.

In the meantime, though we see each other very clearly, our feelings for one another are based solely on love (and on whether someone forgot to clean up their own mess).  Some may find this hard to believe, but it is true.  Love comes in all shades and shapes and sizes.  And, it doesn’t matter if you’re different colors by birth or by choice (for example, if you have an unhealthy attachment to tanning beds or carrot juice).

What’s interesting about loving people who may outwardly look different than you, is that you start to understand that love really is all about the insides of a person (their soul, not their guts and intestines, which are gross and disgusting and who wants to look at that mess).

So, when I look at my wife and son, I see people I love because of who they are, not what they are.  And, they love me for the same reason (that and because generally I try not to annoy them too much).

So, as we head into Spring, a time of renewal, remember — love people for who they are on the inside (except, again, of course for their guts, which are as we all recognize pretty gross).