something for the lovers
If someone asked me how I know when I’m in love, I’d say..
If someone asked me what I think about love, I’d say…
I think it’s the only resource in the world that is infinite in nature, but we treat like it’s scarcely found. As though a love famine is always on the way, or the earth is being constantly plagued by love droughts. I’m writing this by the sea so forgive me if you find one too many ocean metaphors, but when I think about love, that’s what I think about. I think about the sea’s endlessness and depth and nuance. Its shades of blue. That sometimes it’s clear and calm; other times, intense and unrelenting—but beautiful both ways.
The trick here is to treat love like the sea. Not to hold it too tightly or try to quantify its breadth. Let it ebb, let it flow. It will always be there, so please don’t worry about that.
It will always be there.
If someone asked me what love feels like, I’d say…
There are a lot of cute, cliché metaphors that do a good job of capturing what love feels like; centuries worth of song lyrics that do that loved-on/love-drunk feeling justice, so I won’t try to reinvent the wheel or anything. But when I think about what love feels like; how and where it resonates in my body and in my soul, I think of that smile I wasn’t able to stop. The kind of smile where I didn’t know I was going to smile until I did, and I didn’t realize I was smiling until I was. Like when my favorite barista puts in my coffee order perfectly without me saying anything. Or when you give someone a compliment and their entire face lights up and now you’re smiling just because they’re smiling.
Love for me feels little—but like, a bunch of littles; endless littles. It’s not massive or immovable in terms of sheer size, but it’s all the little bits that make up the whole. And the more tiny bits we stack, the larger it feels— but love is not inherently large, I think. It’s not the garden, or even the flowers. It’s the soil, the roots, the rain, the sun. It’s the littles.
If someone asked me how I know when I’m in love, I’d say…
I wait.
And let me explain.
I thrive on momentum and forward movement. I believe in putting one foot in front the other, no matter what. If I can’t walk, I’ll creep and I’ll crawl—even all I can manage is a tiny step, I need to keep looking forward, moving forward. I’m a quick thinker, a rapid responder, a decisive decision-maker. The minute I feel something slowing me down, I leave it where it’s at, because I have to keep going.
So if I pause for you, it's because I’m in love with you.
If I am willing to extend my hand, slow my pace, to sit with you in a way that means I can’t keep moving, that’s a big deal. Because I like to be on-the-go. I want to be on to the next thing. My to-achieve list is vast and ambitious and it waits for no one—unless, of course, I’m in love with you.
So if I swap grabbing my usual iced coffee in the drive-thru, to sit with you over a cup of chamomile with my phone on DND and my planner tucked away in my bag; if I look out the window and see the road I planned to be on, and delay my journey a little longer; if I am willing to wait, that means I’m in love with you.
If someone asked me what I’ve learned about love, I’d say…
It’s worth the wait.
