Maybe Love

Maybe love is a gentle reminder, a home base, a random act of kindness.

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How do you define love? A chemical reaction? Deep feelings of attachment, affection, and need. Dramatic, sudden feelings of attraction and respect? Sometimes you fill journals trying to define love, but the answer was on the first page. Maybe love is a fleeting emotion of care and affection. Maybe a soulmate is a moment in time, a hobby, a pet, a sense of purpose. Maybe love is words, acts, touch, time, or gifts. Maybe love is patient, awkward, and kind. Maybe love is a one-night stand that stays for breakfast. Maybe love is the sympathetic ear of an Uber driver who hands you a tissue to wipe away your tears. Maybe love is infinite eye contact with a stranger on a bus. Maybe love is a mother watching her child grow from the lessons she taught him. Maybe love is the callous hands of a mechanic who helps carry the burden you carried alone. Maybe love makes the bed; maybe love stays tangled in the sheets. Maybe love is an apology that has already been forgiven. Maybe love is arguments; maybe love is the stillness between arguments — a comfortable silence lost in reverie. Maybe love is compatible zodiac signs meeting as the stars align. Maybe love is a back and forth. Maybe love boards your flight just before take off, to get down on one knee and risk it all. Maybe love lets you fly. Maybe love is made between the sheets and between the lines. Maybe love is a gentle reminder, a home base, a random act of kindness. Maybe love is in the moonlight at the roller derby. Maybe love is the waves that crash at Point Dume. Maybe love is a misstep, a mistake. Maybe love is the reality you create while the world is ending. Maybe love is a lesson learned too late; maybe love is a lesson learned on time. Maybe love is a string of serendipities that leads to that one perfect moment when you realize its breakdown or breakthrough. Love actually is all around you. Describing love is like describing the taste of water—it just nourishes you.