Love.
Fine. A lot of people hesitate to write about this subject for the simple reason that they feel unqualified to write on the topic. But then again, who is?
So February’s almost done. March is coming and there’s really nothing left to look forward to except Easter Sunday, maybe – then comes dreaded September.
So I’m done with my Bagahe saga, for the reason that I don’t have excess baggage anymore.
What I have now is some excess thinking. People say I think too much and I don’t beg to disagree.
So comes the slumbook part: What is love?
I won’t be telling you what love is; rather, I’ll be telling you HOW it is.
Love is taking time to give your dogs kibble when you’re already five minutes late for work.
Love is putting up with your Mom’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies to clean up when she shouldn’t have to.
Love is waking up early every weekend to wash and wax the car just so your Dad will enjoy taking it down the driveway.
Love is waiting for one and a half hours for your Dad just so he could have someone to talk to on that fifteen-minute drive home.
Love is putting aside a crucial project for a few minutes just so your nephew can go around your office taking things and stuffing them down his pockets.
Love is getting up early in the morning so you can let out your cat – lest he pee on the rug again and mew the day away.
Love is sitting for two hours while your sister pours out her heart’s frustrations without you saying a single word.
Love is slapping yourself on the face just so you wouldn’t doze off while driving because the rest of your family is sound asleep.
Love is having the strength to resist kicking someone else’s behind just to vindicate a legal right.
Love is being capable to feel happy for your sister when she starts dating your bitter enemy.
Love is not minding when your favorite drink goes missing from the fridge.
Love is trying to be interested in the things people you care about are interested in.
Love is lying still and letting your girlfriend prick out your whiteheads even though it hurts like hell when she does that.
Love is enduring a week’s worth of allergies just so your wife can go shopping with you.
Love is busting a move with your girlfriend although it’s quite clear that you were not made for dancing.
Love is eating what has been prepared for dinner although it looks – and tastes – weird.
Love is taking the extra mile to prepare just so your team won’t have to get grilled by the judge – although it usually happens anyway.
Love is resisting the urge to judge when there is a strong temptation to do so.
Love is being strong enough to say no even when someone you care about wants it so badly.
