a memory of love

Stella with two of her favorite people: cousins Sophie and Londyn

In my mind there is this picture, it existed once if I could only find it again. It was of my grandpa long after the lights had gone out. Alzheimers. He was sitting at the table ready to eat and Grammie was leaning over him, carefully tucking an unfolded napkin into his collar. He couldn't remember how to talk anymore, which broke all of our hearts since he was a terribly funny man. And he couldn't remember who she was, which I'm sure was nearly enough to snap her tiny little heart in two. And yet she kept on, gently guiding him from the bed to the chair to the table to the bath, and so on. Thoughtfully ironing his shirts and shaving his face and talking to him as if nothing in the world had gone awry.

And this, to me, is love embodied. Giving someone what they need, and happily receiving what they are able to give back, meager as it may be.

Something to aspire to.

Happy lovers day, everyone.