By Jamie Strickland
February has a way of insisting that love should look a certain way. Red roses. Gigantic stuffed animals. Candlelit dinners. Greeting cards that cost $8(!?!).
I’ve never been much into those forced displays of affection, and the older I get, the more I realize that the best kinds of love rarely present themselves with that type of grandeur. They don’t show up wrapped in ribbon. They appear subtly, sneakily, even surprisingly, in the everyday rhythms of life.
When my husband fills my car with gas without me realizing until I get in the next morning. When he fixes whatever was making that annoying sound because he knows I can’t stand it. When he trades plates with me because I like what he ordered better. When he lays down on my spot in the bed for a minute before I get in, to warm it up for me in the winter.
Yes, he also buys me flowers, but it’s those other moments that really show he’s always thinking about making things more comfortable and convenient for me, even when there’s a million other distractions around him.
When my teenage daughter discovers one of my favorite songs, and she loves it too. The shared love of music is a special type of connection that can’t even be put into words. It’s just a feeling, a vibe if you will, that passes through time and space and lets you know you are sometimes on the same wavelength.
When my usually goofy, fun-loving boy child says something insightful, thoughtful and wise beyond his years. There’s a certain type of love and pride that is unique to a mother-son relationship.
When my little brother (he’s taller than me and has a beard, but he’s still my little brother) and I make eye contact at family gatherings and share an inside joke, without even speaking any words. There’s a unique shared history that only siblings can understand.
When my high school best friend calls me at just the right time and has just the right words to say. There’s a level of comfort you can share with someone who’s known you since you were 14 that’s just not possible to recreate.
When my friends send me memes that they know I will find hilarious. When I miss a few classes at the gym and a friend sends a message to check if I’m ok.
These are the moments that comprise a life of meaning, quality and yes, love. The small moments and minor gestures that remind us we’re seen, remembered and never quite alone.
