When you're cold, I'll be there, hold you tight to me.
When you're on the outside, Baby, and you can't get in, I will show you you're so much better than you know. When you're lost and you're alone and you can't get back in, I will find you, Darling, and I will bring you home. And if you want to cry, I am here to dry your eyes. And in no time, you'll be fine.
When you're cold, I'll be there, hold you tight to me.
When you're low, I'll be there, by your side, Baby.
My entire life has consisted of interpreting, misinterpreting, disinterpreting, and multi-interpreting things. It's my thang. This is directly representative of why I chose rhetoric as my field of love. Keeping in the theme, I've always been able to work love songs from different angles. Perhaps this has to do with the fact that I was born into a romance with my mother. She used to sing me love songs and make me the object of her affection.
I used to think unconditional love was about setting the house on fire and still getting Christmas presents. Over the years and screw-ups, I've learned that unconditional love is about falling in love with something as precious as a baby, as beautiful as a mother at the speed of light. Nothing else matters. All else is secondary.
This song is featured in an episode of Sex & the City, at the end of the episode during that final Carrie thought. As it scrolls over Aidan and her, Samantha and Richard, Charlotte and her Park Avenue apartment, it finishes with the scene of the most romantic, most incredible love there ever could be: Miranda feeling the first kick of her baby, and becoming euphorically happy. When I hear this song, it brings out ecstatic feelings of love for my mother.
When you're cold, I'll be there, hold you tight to me.
When you're low, I'll be there, by your side, Baby.
