Love Lost

I feel like it’s easy to forget what love feels like.

Or maybe it’s not. Maybe, each love is different, so holds a different place within us. Or, maybe, we’ve never had the love we wanted, so, we say we don’t know what love is.

But we do. I do. I know what it is.

I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in the way my friend looks at her partner when they’re talking about something they’re passionate about. I’ve seen it when my Dad brings my Mum a cup of tea in the morning, every morning. I’ve seen it in the way my Nana has a humbug every night – even though she doesn’t like them – because they were my Grandads favourite sweet.

When you’ve loved and lost it’s easy to lock away that feeling because it hurts too much. Then, over time you forget how to feel that feeling. Or that it even exists. But it does. It exists everywhere. You just have to know where to look, and you have to want to see it. They say love is blind, but I think people can be blind to love. You either don’t want to see it in others because it reminds you of love lost, or refuse to see it in you because you’re scared of losing again. And that’s natural, of course. But just because you can’t acknowledge it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

Something you should also know is if you’re looking for a specific love, you won’t notice the love that already surrounds you.

In the way your friend messages every morning to see how you slept. Or how excited your dog gets when you come home for the weekend, and they’re wagging their tail so much you’re scared they’ll sprain it. Or the support you receive from your parents for everything you do.

I think you have to want to see love, all kinds of love, in order to feel it. Don’t just focus on one kind, you’ll miss everything else. And everything else is just as good, I promise.

You’re ready for it, I know you are. I am ready for it. I am ready to see it. I am ready to feel it.

I’m ready.