I’ve been thinking about love a lot while the coffee gets cold in front of me – love isn’t always hot — it isn’t just in wild throes and ragged breath and fingers knotted hand to hand – love isn’t only on twisted sheets, or cramped car seats — or murmurs, sighs and sated sleep in towers when the sun crests over a city turned to gold.
Love is also in soft light shining off of dish soap when you’re both too tired to clean – it’s in folded laundry, a patched roof, an unclogged drain, and a cup of tea.
Love is all about the new beginnings… and watching reruns.
It’s in bubble baths even though they aren’t your thing and making breakfasts even though you aren’t hungry.
It’s in the first joke that breaks that heavy silence after you fight until you both are laughing til you can barely breathe — it’s moving your index fingers closer together across an enormous divide side by side.
It’s in makeup sex and funny texts.
And in insurance forms, and blood tests, in waiting for biopsies, in carrying their passport pictures when you travel together just in case, in filling out taxes, in praying for two pink lines, in getting up to feed the baby, in diaper changes even when it isn’t your turn because taking turns defeats the purpose of these long days and short years spent in it together.
It is also in high fevers and bad coughs when you pick up tissues on the floor and don’t say anything because you don’t even really notice, it’s in taking out that garbage and going to the plant nursery and resting your head on a shoulder strong enough to hold the weight of all your thoughts which feel too heavy for you to manage all alone.
Love is in foot rubs and clipping coupons.
It’s in who takes you home after your colonoscopy, and a drive together to the shrink when you aren’t speaking.
Love is in the saggy middles where the plot line gets a little stale, not just in a first time – the wonder, the shock of knowing someone for that first time – or three times in an afternoon.
And still: you can draw that heart on a window fogged over with want and heat and breath in the coldest winter, and even when the fog lifts you can still see the outline shimmer if you know how to look for it in the sunshine of an early spring that just might last forever if you feed and water and give it everything you have in the dawn, and in the gloaming, in kindness and in trust and also in a giant leap of faith into a wild field where the whole entire world is possible and the whole world can be yours together.