I was reading someone else's musings about love and what it is and how it works and that got me to thinking about the love in my own life. I have a lot of it. Lots and lots of love. And each of those loves is quite different and yet, they are all the same.
My family. The love my family feels for me and I for them is constant. It's steady. There's no guessing and there's no worry or wonder about it. They love me. They love me everyday. All the time. No matter what. Even when they don't like me very much, they love me always. And I love them always. It's sort of amazing that it works that way if you think about it. I know so many people who can't stand, let alone love, their family and it makes me realize how blessed I am to have 4 best friends in my brothers and sisters. I have a mom and dad and grandmothers who really do love me, too. And best of all I have a daughter who I adore and who adores me. That's love.
My friends. What a funny group of friends I have. Women mostly who are all different and wonderful and funny and caring. Some I'm closer with than others but they all love me. It's a good thing and a true blessing to have so many wonderful, caring women (and men) in my life. They love me for who I am and what I bring to the table in my own quirky little way. They love me for making them laugh and letting them cry. They love me for saying what no one else will say to them. They love me for being willing to be stupid with them and act silly with them and for being dorky about the same things with them. That's love.
Brian. There are a million things I think I could say about how Brian loves me and I love him. He's my best.friend. He's the person who laughs at me when I make "the pouty face". He's the person who will SQUEEZE my head when it feels like it's going to crack open like an egg if he doesn't hold it together for me. He's the person who I tell everything to. He makes me laugh. Everyday. I've never know anyone who could make me laugh everyday. Even when I've been at my worst, my most pathetic, my deepest sorrows, he finds a way and he makes me laugh. And I make him laugh. And I hold him when he cries. That's love.
In a world of resume dating and tell me 10 things about yourself that someone should know to fall in love with you dating I am blessed to have found him. I don't think my wicked ability to flirt or the fact that I read several good books a year or can play a mean game of taboo are what really matters. I think what matters is the way I scratch his back at the end of the day or they way I cram all his stuff in my already full purse or the way I hold him when he has a nightmare. It's the little things. It's the way we finish each others sentences. It's the way he takes my hand in his. It's the way I feel when I look into his pretty green eyes. It's a million tiny things that make up the day, the weeks, the months and the years.