They say love lives in the heart and in the mind.
It lives in little moments and in a life that's shared.
It lives in long days and hard times. It's in acts of service and selfless moments.
It lives in physical spaces—in homes and cities, in forests or farms.
It exists in joy and pain.
Love takes many forms.
It speaks softly and can race like rapids.
It hides in a soft kiss, a warm embrace, in a fixed toilet gone unnoticed.
It's lunch boxes that are always full and ready to go.
Love is a dog who can tell you've had a bad day.
It's a ride when someone could have let you walk.
Love is the new toy of a child and the hole in a parent's shoe.
Love is a coffee prepared just how you take it.
It's a student who long outgrew you, yet greets you warmly after years apart.
Love is a home built together, beautifying.
It's an athlete bowing humbly before the fans.
Love is in food prepared by someone else's hands.
It's a donut or a slushy in a 7/11 parking lot when you won or lost the big game.
It's in the book that lets you get lost in someone else's mind.
Love is a porch light left on while someone waits inside.
Love is sharing a TV show, no matter how bad it is.
It's long nights next to hospital beds.
Love is a son shaving the face of a father when his hands don't work so well.
Love is forgetting.
Love is remembering.
It's showing up when nobody else does.
Love lives in shared experiences communicated over digital data lines.
Love is a joke shared, a laugh, and some self-deprecating humour.
It's a person who shows up on moving day when they have somewhere better to be.
It's in pictures painted and poems written.
It's in a craft perfectly executed, mastered until every flaw fades away.
Love is everywhere and in everything.
So why can we never find it?