Beating heart

It took me a long time to realize that I had completely the wrong idea about love.

I had always thought of love as a blanket that wrapped me up, held me tight and refused to let go. A place where I would arrive after a full out sprint.

I have a lot still to learn about love. Listen to that. I sound fifteen.

There’s the love I have for my kids. For my family.

Then there’s the love I have for the person I chose to spend the rest of my life alongside. The cure for all the misconceptions I had – good or bad. The person who loves me when I am most unlovable and who stays in my corner through it all.

I’m not Cinderella. He’s not Prince Charming. There’s no castle or pumpkin or fairy godmother. It’s not what I expected when I was eight – or even twenty.

But it’s spectacular. It’s worth whatever I have to give. It’s the hardest work I’ve ever done and it’s the only work I hope never ends – because while I was wrong about what I expected, instead of a blanket I have a tapestry. A constant work of connects and effort so hopelessly complicated that it can’t be anything but beautiful. A marathon instead of the sprint. Something I never expected but worth more than I ever dreamed.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

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