Love looks like lots of things. To some people love looks like flowers or dinners or certificates to a massage parlor or even a heart-shaped box of mystery chocolates. To me, love doesn't look like anything. It feels like everything.
I have known love all my life. My earliest memories are being nestled in the crook of my mama's arms, feeling the gentle rock of the chair, and hearing her sing some hymn just slightly off key. That was a love personified. Dad would come home from work and have time for us kids. We would all share our days and just be together. We always had a family vacation together with our little pop-up camper following along. That was love personified.
I found my true love in my mid/late 20's. I didn't know my love would be a smart, somewhat reserved Slovenian/Italian man with a full beard (at the time). I didn't even know I loved him for awhile. But then it hits like a wall. I
love him. And I still do.
What does love look like for me these days? A constant presence of someone that loves me as much as I love him. It is the text message that comes in an hour after leaving saying, 'are you ok?' after I had been particularly surly (yes even I get that way sometimes). It comes in the late-night visits we have about our shared love and sometimes concern for the MYP. It is giving incredible amounts of time at work to provide for our family. It is the compliments given nearly daily (unless it is really icky) for meals I prepare for our family. Yes, it isn't a fairy tale existence or expectation. It is the reality and challenges of life that you share with another with care and consideration.
Yesterday to prove my love, I shoveled and dug and chipped away at months of ice/snow buildup on our driveway. After three hours with the help of the MYP at the end, we accomplished much.
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No, I didn't ask Lisi to pose for the picture. She was patiently waiting to be leashed so we could go walk. |
Just so you know how incredibly
coordinated klutzy I am... yesterday I hopped up on the mudroom bench to grab my gloves from up high and came down, rolled my ankle, and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Son #1 looked in shock and awe as he saw his mother take a nose dive. I only have a puffy ankle bone to show for my talent.
Have I told you about
this cookie recipe? If so, pardon the monotony. Our family really likes them and they pack wonderfully for school lunches.
Twenty-eight years ago, someone special was born into our family on this date. He was just a little sweetheart. A chubby little nephew with a ready smile that liked to line up his Hot Wheels cars. Then he became a Sweet Tart. He was still a nice boy, but he liked to tease and taunt his sisters often. Then his heart grew and grew as he did and it became so big that he had to share it with others without reserve. He even offers up hope for the broken-hearted. Happy birthday N!
And finally, this is what love looks like to an overweight tiger tom cat. Kitty massage on a cold winter night. Love his relaxed hind feet. :-)