Learning To Love Again.

If there’s one thing I am for sure, other than starry-eyed and a bit too apprehensive, it’s sentimental.  

I love pictures, and letters, and I save old ticket stubs-- even the ones from terrible movies.  I keep old fortunes, and I guard every note.  I could tell you where I was a year ago.  I could tell you how it felt to live that day. 

Maybe it’s my sentimental heart, or maybe it’s my eyes that can’t seem to forget all the love they’ve seen.  The truth is, I’m not sure where the idea comes from, but I used to think that in order to love someone it took a lot of time, it took a lot of days, it took a lot of ticket stubs.

I still believe that sometimes.    

I’ve been thinking, though, and maybe love isn’t just about how long you’ve known someone or how many BLT sandwiches you’ve shared.  Maybe, sometimes, love is simpler than that.  

Maybe it’s not about the words you’ve said or the tears you’ve shared.  Maybe it’s not about the days.  Maybe it’s not about the time.  Maybe love is just a choice.

***

Sometimes I find myself looking at old pictures that hang on my wall, and I wonder how I’ll ever find people like you again.  

You’ve blessed me, and you’ve changed me, and you’ve been the subject of many thankful prayers.  

Sometimes I find myself looking at old letters, and I wonder how I’ve already collected so much love.  

There are other days, though, when I hear your laughter down the hallway or I see you walking with your eyes toward the sky, that it’s easy.  

Sometimes I don’t need pretty words or a day full of trampolines and “christmas in a cup” to love you.  


-Linds