reSometimes I wonder – what is love? When I think about it I don´t find the answer in a single word. When I grasp its depths I find everything but also nothing; its explanation always eludes me.
Love is a smile, a laugh, a look, your child´s hand in yours and the feeling of those tiny fingers.
Sometime it´s in the pang of noticing something that you´ve not seen before – a freckle, how long those arms have gotten around your neck, the nostalgia as you fold away a tshirt that no longer fits for the last time.
Love is every time you kiss their cheek, wipe away their tears and convince them to swallow their medicine, a damp cloth laid upon their burning forehead.
Love is there every time you watch them run, jump and sing, colour over the lines and as you display each masterpiece on the wall until they make the next one. It´s watching them laugh with their friends and run away from you, their goodbye lingering in the air like fairy dust – so special, fleeting and fragile.
Love is bearing their pain with yours and allowing their weight to fall on your back, and telling them the truth. It´s sheltering their dreams when the sky is stormy and holding them when they have nightmares. Love is feeling them need you – closer, close, and far – but allowing them to fall. It is about showing them that the world has darkness as well as light, warmth as well as cold, and that good and bad lies in everything.
Love is about frustration and sadness, laughter and euphoria, anger and despair, confidence and strength. Sometimes it means standing tall but feeling small, being sad but also happy. Love embraces contradictions and says sorry, and it is always there.
Love is never a word but always a feeling. Its tips touch higher than the highest mountain and reach deeper than any ocean. Love is my children, to whom I gave life and from whom give me my life.
That is what love is.