Love is givning someone a sleep-in, when you are exhausted yourself.
Love is taking the kids to the park, even though the sleep-in wasn’t nearly long enough.
(Self) love is going back to bed instead of doing the dishes or tidy up the house. It is reading a book because it feels good. It is drinking two cups of coffee because the first one was gone to quickly.
Love is sitting on the sofa listening to nursery rhymes on repeat at 5:30 in the morning, a toddler twirling your hair.
Love is watching the gleaming pride in the eyes of someone just mastering that first step between sofa and coffee table.
Love is life, here and now. It’s realising that the “nothing special” is the most special of all.
Love is tired cuddles on the sofa instead of doing the dinner dishes. It’s allowing one to watch a movie and the other to read a book, side by side, not forcing change in each other, not expecting to do and like the same things all the time but allowing for differences and still enjoy togetherness.
Love is acceptance.
Love is buying someone’s favourite pastries, just because.
Love is baby cuddles in the middle of the night even though one of you really want to sleep (usually not the baby).
Love is the beauty of the ordinary. The hum drum of everyday life. The only thing that actually really matters.
Love is family.
I am grateful.