A helluva month. I’ve been thinking about the evidence of love in my life. I find love in:
- Texts I get from friends, be it encouraging words or check-ins every day until they know I’m okay.
- Texts I don’t send, because loving myself means keeping myself far away from people who left without a goodbye, who don’t keep their word, or who want my body but not the rest of me.
- Bottles of kombucha, which my dad specially buys from Costco whenever I come home to visit.
- Bags of food and clothes we drop off at the hospital accompanied by desperate, tearful prayers.
- An empty kitchen sink in the morning. Because even though I might feel too tired to clean up the night before, one of the most loving things I can do for future me is to give myself a clean slate to start the next day.
- The sky, in the endless forms of clouds, faint and brilliant rainbows, and ever-changing phases of the moon, as if all of this was created just so we could marvel and wonder.
