The Kind That Stays
Love used to feel like fireworks to me.
Big gestures. Big feelings. Big moments.
Now it looks steadier.
It looks like my husband reaching for my hand in the middle of an ordinary day.
It looks like hard conversations that end in understanding instead of distance.
It looks like choosing each other — especially when it would be easier not to.
I’ve seen that kind of love before.
In my grandparents. In my parents.
Not flashy. Not performative. Just consistent.
Love looks like friends who show up without needing an invitation.
It looks like family who keeps rooting for you as you grow and change.
It looks like people who make space for your becoming.
It’s not loud most of the time.
It’s consistency.
It’s patience.
It’s staying when things get hard.
Love, to me now, looks like safety without shrinking.
Like loyalty without losing yourself.
Like peace that doesn’t feel temporary.
Fireworks burn bright — and fade.
Comments
Post a Comment