Love is a whisper: “I’ll get the baby this time,”
the whir of the electric mixer, creaming butter and sugar–the start of a birthday cake,
the roar of the carpet cleaner after the dog vomits in the corner (again).
Love is freshly cut grass,
traces of bleach that linger in the bathroom.
Love is, “I think you should get that mole checked,”
counting silver threads of hair,
a FaceTime call with a bad connection.
Love is a latte from the drive-through on your way home from work,
a kiss goodbye, even before you’ve brushed your teeth.
Love is holding hands during couples’ therapy,
butter-and-salt-covered fingers grazing as you scrape the bottom of the popcorn bowl,
a hot iron running over a cotton shirt,
and countless other sacred, ordinary things.

// from the archives; originally shared on 1/29/22 on IG

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