How many loves there are...

From "The Mistress of Spices - Chitra Divakaruni":

Over her shoulder the infant stares at me unblinking, curly head haloed by the morning sun. The girl's oiled braids glisten as she skips through the doorway to offer me a gap-toothed smile.

It is like a fist punching me in the center of my chest, the love I feel for them...

Strange how many loves there are that we can feel. Strange how they rise in us without reason. Even I a novice at this know so already.