By Brooke Kelly
Love is not the next man willing to sleep with you, and it is not your ex-boyfriend, certainly not the one who called your friend a bitch. Love isn’t the boy who gave you half of his snack in high school. It isn’t daisies and baby’s breath, not even roses. Love is not picking you up for a date, holding the door, or letting you walk on the inside of the sidewalk.
Love is your coworker, who brought you a snack that you mentioned wanting to try the previous day. And it is the woman who watched you grow up ending her phone call when she hears your footsteps on the way to her bedroom. It is the girl who let your tears fall on her back the first time a boy broke your heart. And the second time, and then the third. Love is the girl who knows my Starbucks order. It’s begging the bartender at work to come up with a non-alcoholic substitute for a woman in recovery. Love is throwing away the trash your best friend left in your car. It’s forgetting the grudge. It’s giving your dog an extra kiss because you know his days are numbered. It’s drawing yourself a bath. Love is in all the things you aren’t asking for, all the little actions people do, not because they should, but because they can.