That's love, I think. . . . . . . . . .

An elderly gentleman brings his wife to the hair salon by my therapy room every Friday morning.  He walks her through the door then waits in the car whilst her hair is styled and set.  He returns to collect her when she’s finished.  That’s love, I think.

I watch the squirrels by my house regularly playing in the trees.  When one gets a little too rough causing another to fall, they stop and go back to make sure their friend is okay.  That’s love, I think.

A bunch of trees bend together, forming an archway covering the path on my walk.  “That ones not doing too good”, someone points out.  “The others are trying to nourish her.”  That’s love, I think.

I read a story of a motorcyclist who knocked over a young boy when he ran out into the road to retrieve his basketball.  The biker spent 45 days sitting at his hospital bedside whilst he was unresponsive. He read stories and talked to him.  When the boy awoke from his coma, he recalled the stories the biker had told him.  That’s love, I think.

I watch a football coach roughly touch the head of a dejected boy, rubbing his hair after defeat.  That’s love, I think.

I sit alongside clients each day whilst they delve into their deepest truths.  Their vulnerability and courage alive and present.  That’s love, I think.

You see, love doesn’t have to be sparkly or glittery, merry or bright.   It doesn’t have to involve grand gestures and perfectly edited social media posts. 

If you aren’t feeling festive, if this time of year is challenging for you, that’s okay.  You’re okay.  Love exists in every-day places, not just on one day.

That’s love, I think.

It’s there.

I promise.

J X