Love

I came across this quote early this week on Pinterest. I found it sad, but I couldn't figure out exactly why. I pondered it and thought upon it. 

When I run, I have thoughts that work their way through my brain like water runs through a sponge. Some stays, and some trickles out. This one took some time, but it finally worked its way out.

Love. In today's day and age (and perhaps in years before, but I never recognized it nor was told of it from my parents' "time"), the word love is used too much to describe too many things. I'm guilty of it as anyone. Love is tossed around like it's worth pennies and people don't recognize the value of invested love. 

Love is diagnosed publicly as a few simple feelings: sweaty palms, heart flutters, top of the world mind state. It's whimsical, and a whirlwind. It's to be followed no matter the consequence.

We hear it's worth fighting for, but do we actually take this into account when old love is faced with new love?

I love my husband. I've loved him for a mere 4 years. It's the longest I've ever loved anyone (other than my family and my daughter). Do I love him the same way as I did when I met him? No, I don't. Do I still get those fluttery, butterfly feelings? Sometimes.

If I would open myself up and look outside my marriage, I'm very confident that I could find those feelings. But those aren't love. Those are the starts of love. Those are the enticing thrills that draw us into love. Those are not by definition love. Those are fleeting. 

I adore my husband. I adore him in a different way than a woman swoons over the looks of a handsome man. I adore the way he tells stories. I adore the little things about him. The things I had to take the time to discover. Certain things he says make me laugh, not because they are necessarily funny, but because they betray the nerd within him. I can anticipate his reactions and I can plan surprises for him that I have no doubt he will like. I can reveal my heart and have no fear of betrayal. I can cry, and he will hold me. I can rant, and he will listen. I can strive, and he'll tell me to relax. I know things. And I know love. I know him. And he knows me. He can feel me disappear when I get frustrated. He can see in my eyes when I've had enough. He can see in my eyes when I'm overflowing with admiration towards him. He can anticipate my needs, and he is my rock when I'm weak. He is my hero, and he is my provider.

This is love.

On one hand, the whirlwind, the quick heartbeats, the unknown is intoxicating. It's a remarkable rush of emotions. It's a thrill. But there is something that is wonderful about knowing someone so intimately that they know you better than yourself and you them. Comfortable is not the right word. Comforting, maybe. 

It's kinda like life is this wicked storm outside your window. And you are safe. Wrapped in a blanket with a warm cup of tea and a wonderful book. You are safe. The storm will rage on, and may bang against the window. But you are safe.

I guess simply put, the quote "Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second" leans on a world logic that is sad and misled. Love changes over time. Love matures. Love moves from racing heartbeats, to two steady hearts beating as one. Love sweeps us off our feet, and into each others' arms. Love isn't cut and dry as loving one person more. 

If you fall for the second one, you've simply not learned how to either identify the different types of love, or you're too immature to recognize the value of it. 

And what are you doing looking outside your love?

Love is a garden, and it'll grow however you tend to it. You and only you are responsible for your garden. If you take the time, you'll reap a harvest. And I promise it'll be the most amazing thing you've ever had the chance to taste.

So do I love my husband the same as 4 years ago? I answered "no" and I stand by that. 

I don't love him the same. 

I love him more.