I used to think love had to look a certain way, something obvious, something we could easily name. Big words, clear expressions, moments that feel like what we see in movies. But slowly, that idea has been changing.
Love is not always romantic. Sometimes, it is very quiet. It looks like someone checking if you reached safely. It looks like a colleague cutting vegetables with you after a long day, or making food for you when you are not well.
It looks like community people offering you food, even when they have very little. It looks like village women waiting for you to arrive, just to sit together and talk for a while. No one calls these moments “love.” No one announces them. But they stay with you.
I think we miss a lot of love in life because we expect it to come in a certain form, something bigger, louder, more visible. And in that expectation, we overlook the small, consistent ways in which people care. And somewhere along the way, I’ve been learning something else too.
Taking care of yourself is also a form of love. (My dad always said that giving your loved ones the gift of your good health is more valuable than anything else. He believed that if you truly learn to take care of yourself, you can overcome anything in life.) Maybe one of the most important ones. Because when you take care of yourself, your health, your rest, your peace- you are able to be present for others in a better way. Not out of exhaustion, not out of pressure, but with intention.
Maybe love is not always in what we say. Maybe it is in what we do, quietly, again and again.
In showing up.
For others.
And for ourselves.
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