Love.

Love is spontaneous.

I hear a tap on my window and as I squint out the screen covered glass, your eyes meet mine. Leaves swirl around your freckled face in the golden fall sunshine. I open the window and we touch noses through the screen filter. “Come away with me,” you say. I smile and laugh; I can’t help it. You feel like fall, like a good and beautiful change and a new beginning. I see freedom in your deep brown eyes and a love as steady as a solid oak.

Love is selfless.  

There’s a solemn tone to your voice as you tell me about the Guard. You know I worry easily. You know I don’t want to lose you to the bullets of enemy fire. You know I would be lost without you, alone back here in the States. I want you to be happy, but it seems that I wouldn’t make it, that I simply couldn’t. “Happy wife, happy life,” you say. I know how badly you want this and that you want me to be on board. You say you won’t do it if it makes me this upset. How loving would I be if I said no to your dreams and aspirations? I say yes with a full heart, knowing death could not kill my love for you.

Love is steadfast.

Your arms cocoon me in a strong blanket of love and a promise. You are steadfast to me, always there and always caring. Every swift movement of your arm is for my protection and provision. There is no way I could ever thank you for your lifestyle of love towards me. Your actions say more to me than your words ever could: that you put me above yourself because you love me. I believe you when you say it. There is no manipulation and no selfish ambitions. I can only hope to be as loving as you. You have loved me with all that you are and all that you will be. You have loved me completely. I hope and try with my whole being to do the same.

Love is the small things and the small people.

Nothing could ever end my love for you. As the days pass, I get angry and joyous and every emotion in-between. My patience is more than tried, but my unconditional love for you always stays. You cling at my legs with sticky jam hands and I scoop you up, feeling exasperated but content. You’re so precious and innocent; I run your hands under the warm sink water and watch the jam slip away and down the drain. They are too small for mine and it’s perfect, the way I have to gently clench my hand to hold yours tightly. There’s joy in your smile and wonder in your eyes. You are love, my child. You are loved, my child.