obsession….

Obsession comes easily when you are two and a half and you throw a paper airplane off the balcony at church for the first time.  You might be such a person if you hold that airplane tight in your hand all the way home and spend all afternoon playing with it.  If you sleep with those paper airplanes clutched to your chest all night long you are obsessed.  If your parents hear strange crackling noises in the monitor because you sleep on your stomach and they are under you, crinkling whenever you move, you are certainly obsessed.  

If you are out in the hallway before you have even fully woken up, crying, about those flat, mangled, loved airplanes still in your fingers, then you are just plain adorable.  And obsessed.   (Oh, that all things broken in the course of our passions were so easily mended!)