Not terribly long ago, you asked me something about love.
It began with a confession of sorts.
“Hey, mom, so I was on your computer and I read this thing you wrote about Dad a couple of kids ago…”
And I’m sure I gave you a “Mmhmm…” kind of response as you sung its sweet and swoon-worthy praises.
But it was the question that came next that made me cringe and giggle all at once.
“So, Mom, what happened?”
And without a bit of sarcasm, I snorted out, “Eight years happened, kiddo.”
I’m sure we laughed and quipped a bit back and forth before we moved on to the next thing.
But days later, I still found myself stuck in the echo of your question.
Because somehow life in all its clumsy, messy ways had taken the love between your dad and I and made it real.
For better or worse. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. And in everything in-between.
So dear girl, give me another minute or two or ten and let me tell you what love can be.
Love can be precious and sweet and swoon-worthy but it can also be something else, something more, something that’s better than the fairy tale.
Love can be late nights and 3 am feedings and go get some diapers or tampons or chocolate.
Love can be soft bellies and less hair and wrinkles and snoring like a freight train.
Love can be everybody is puking and there is poop on the floor and somebody clogged the sink with toilet paper...again.
Love can be a whole heap of sorries and finding forgiveness and moving toward each other even when you’re mad as heck.
Love can be money due but the dishwasher’s broken and the tire is flat and washing machine is leaking all over the floor.
Love can be cleaning toilets and picking up dirty underwear and praying that the sippy cup you just found behind the bed was filled with water.
Love can be weeping in an ultrasound room because there is no heartbeat.
Love can be standing by your daddy’s hospital bed in disbelief that he is gone.
Love can be weathering wheelchairs and doctor’s visits and bad news upon bad news.
Love can be taking each other’s hand day after day, time after time, hard thing after hard thing.
Because nothing is more real and raw and brave.
To find each other in all the unexpected mundane things of nearly twenty years so that when someone asks, “What happened?”
You can smile and say, “Love. Love happened every day.”