A Magic Called Love
“Nothing prepared me for the privilege of being yours.” Today, while walking beneath a sky painted in the softest shades of blue, I wondered— When did love become something we were expected to plan? When did it become a little box on the long, serious list of adulthood— between building a career, paying bills, and knowing exactly where life is going? When did finding someone stop feeling like a miracle and start feeling like a deadline? When did we become so careful with the most beautiful thing inside us? When did we begin asking if love was practical, if it was mutual, if it had potential, if it could survive the future before allowing it to bloom in the present? I want love to be softer than that. I want it to be the surprise of finding someone’s eyes already searching for mine across a crowded room. I want shy smiles that linger a little too long, hands brushing accidentally and remembering the feeling for the rest of the day. I want flowers without...
