Parents are hostages of their love for their children. I believe no one is exempted.
I hate what my child, for example, did one day. There were confrontations and the child fought back or talked back and I felt hurt. I blurted out hurtful words in return then I chose not to talk. Yet I still feel love for the child that has wronged me. I still cannot help to think about the whereabouts, or if the child is safe from harm or danger if still not at home. I ponder at how helpless I feel because of the love. I mull over the things I would recite and plan to do it with might, or so I thought.
My heart melted at the first touch of the cheek that touched mine. My mind got confused what to say and feel until only seconds later, the offering of remorse was spoken. I was speechless. My plan did not transpire. I am still captive of my love for the child.