Text: How is it written?

“When I was just five years old, the kindergarten teacher asked the students to draw a picture of something we loved. I drew my family. Then I drew a big circle with red pencil around the figures. Wishing to write a word above the circle, I left my little table and went to the teacher's desk and said: - Teacher, how do we write…?
She wouldn't let me finish the question. She told me to go back to my seat and not dare to interrupt the class any longer. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

When I returned home that day, I remembered the drawing and took it out of my pocket. I smoothed it out neatly on the kitchen table, went to my backpack, grabbed a pencil, and looked at the big red circle. My mom was making dinner, going back and forth from the stove to the sink. I wanted to finish the drawing before showing it to her and I said. Mom, how do we write…?

– Boy, can't you see I'm busy right now? Go play outside. And don't slam the door, was her response. I folded the drawing and put it in my pocket. That night I took the drawing out of my pocket again. I looked at the big red circle, and picked up the pencil. I wanted to finish the drawing before showing it to my father. I smoothed the folds well and placed the drawing on the living room floor, near my father's recliner and said:

– Dad, how do we write…?
– I'm reading the paper and I don't want to be interrupted. Go play outside. And don't slam the door. I folded the drawing and put it in my pocket again. The next day, when my mother was sorting the laundry, she found in her pants pocket, wrapped in paper, a pebble, a piece of string, and two marbles. All my “treasures” that I had collected while playing outside. She didn't even open the paper. She threw everything in the trash.
The years passed...
When I was 28 years old, my five-year-old daughter drew a picture. It was (my) her family's drawing. I smiled when she pointed to a tall, undefined figure and told me.
– This is you, daddy!
I looked at the big red circle my daughter had made around the figures, and slowly began to run my finger over the circle. She quickly descended from my lap and warned:
- I'll be right back!
And she came back. With a pencil in hand. She settled back on my knees, positioned the tip of her pencil near the top of the big red circle, and asked.
– Dad, how do we write love?
I hugged my daughter, took her little hand and led her, slowly, helping her to form the letters, while she said:
– Love… Love, dear, it is written with the letters T…E…M…P…O (TIME). Conjugate the verb to love all the time. Use your time to love. Create extra time to love, not forgetting that for the children, in particular, what matters is having someone who listens and gives an opinion, who participates and vibrates, who knows and encourages. Don't expect your child to have to figure out for himself how to spell love, family, affection.
Finally, remember: if you don't have time to love, create. After all, the human being is a well of creativity and time… well, time is a matter of choice.”