Love is my husband assuring me he likes me with short hair.
Love is a picture hanging on my office bulletin board for about 10 years of a hand-drawn flower and the words: “To Mommy, From Michelle. Have a good day at work! I Love You!”
Love is stopping to see my mother every day after work even when I’m tired and all I want to do is go home and kick my shoes off.
Love is my husband painting my daughter’s bathroom because her husband is busy working on his mother’s house.
Love is watching my daughter’s belly get bigger each passing week as I wait to meet my first grandchild.
Love is worrying about my husband’s heart prescription running out before the refill gets here.
Love is seeing pictures of myself on my daughter’s blog with the words “my mother in the summer of the late 70s is pretty much exactly the same as i am today.”
Love is conquering my fear of riding on the back of my husband’s motorcycle because I know he wants me to spend the afternoon with him.
Love is pretending to be interested in hearing my mom tell the same story for the umpteenth time.
Love is making two different dinners because my husband loves a good hamburger and my daughter’s a vegetarian.
Love is my husband fixing the flat tire on my bike.
Love is lending my brand new tent to my daughter for 2 months before I even had the chance to use it. And love is my husband cleaning that tent for me when she brought it back.
Love is overhearing my mother tell her friend that I am her rock.
Love sure isn’t easy, but love is rewarding. I can’t imagine life without it.
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