My friend, Sally, challenged me to accept Kwame Alexander’s writing prompt, “Love is…”
So here is a draft of my attempt:
Love is complicated.
As my friend sits at her mother’s bedside
I think of how unique each death is, just as individual as each new life.
Love is in how we live between our birth and death.
Love is hard; and
Love is multiplicative.
Two become seven
Then seven become twenty-four.
The heart makes room for more.
Love is messy:
when all your clothes have spit-up stains on them,
when your house is an eruption of toys every afternoon by five,
when your heart breaks again
Love is healing.
Making the complicated simple.
Softening the hardened edges.
Love is remembering the mess
and longing for its return.