Sometimes the fewest words carry the biggest impact. Consider:

“I Love You.” When told this, it changes everything. It says that someone other than your mom considers you worthy of affection. It says someone has chosen you- just you- to be theirs. And they have made that choice not because you’re family or where you live or how good you are at something or good grades or anything. They say it just because of who you are. And it thrills the soul.

“I Love You.” When you first say this to someone, it seems to open up that part of you that you’ve worked so hard for so long to keep protected. You have hardened it to guard yourself from all that might come from its exposure. And so these words are the first that come from deep down in your heart, up through your vocal chords and out your mouth into the world for someone to actually hear it. It exposes you. It makes you vulnerable. And it gives away a part of you that you’ve never given before.

“I Do.”

These two words carry all the commitment and wishes and dreams and hopes of a lifetime. They leave a certain life behind and forge forward into the unknown with another human being. They say no matter what. They say you above all others. They say forever.

“You’re Pregnant.” Suddenly, the world seems grand. It conjures of visions little feet and little hands and the smell of baby powder. They speak of you intimately involved in the creation of another being. Of that new life being a part of you for the rest of your earthly life.

“It’s a Boy.” It speaks of bugs and baseball bats and blue jeans. Of skinned knees and poison ivy. Of wrestling and swimming and climbing trees. Of a thousand questions and a thousand red bugs. Of running and jumping and swinging and falling and crying and running again. Of taking dares and giving dares. Of laughing and loving life.

“It’s a Girl”. It speaks of dressing up and flowers and smiles. Of hugs and kisses and holding little hands. Of pretending this and practicing that. Of innocence and vulnerability. Of ponytails and parties and giggling. Of softness and perfume. Of screaming at bugs and laughing with friends and pink pajamas.

“It’s Malignant.” It speaks of mortality. Of loss of control. Of fear and finality. Of the unknown and what might be and what might not be. Of life-change. It speaks about reflection of the things that really matter.

“It’s Over.” They speak of the ending of a relationship. Of dashed hopes and dreams. Of loss and hurt and emotion and emptiness. Of

a part of you that is being removed like amputation. Of intense self-examination. Of wondering how to start again.

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust”. They speak of finality. Of a destination. Of closure. Of reflection. Of the passing of a life and all that was in that life. They evoke a somberness that comes with the realization that all we, like them, will come to such a place.

Rex alphin is a farmer, businessman and contributing columnist for The Tidewater News. His e-mail address is rexalphin@aol.com.