What is Love?

What is Love, anyway?

I don't think there's really a good way to describe it. It's like trying to explain what part of your brain ideas come from in Biology class. You know they're there, and you know that it's coming from somewhere in there, but you can't explain where the come from or how to make them or anything. You can't touch them. I think that's how love is, too. It's there, but you can't hold it, look at it. You just feel it.

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There's always love for your family. I think that one is easier. Your mom and dad are the reason you're alive. How could you not love them? Their lives would be so much easier without you. I mean, they have to take care of you; lose hours of sleep when you were up crying all night long when you were still a baby. They spend so much money on us it's ridiculous. Food, drinks, toys, school, clothes, movies, all the extras we want... And they give it to us. All the time. That, and their time. Imagine how your parents could live without you. I mean, without my nine siblings and me, my parents could live in a mansion and have nice cars and go on vacations. Instead, we live in an old house that's too small for us and in bad condition. Our fifteen-passenger van is old and doesn't work very well. And we barely scrape by with the money my dad makes. I owe them so much.

But I don't think that's all it is, either. That's only the logical side of it. Your brain can figure out that much. But your heart-- that's where love is. It's more than what they do for you that makes you love them. I don't think there's really any way I couldn't love them. They say blood is thicker than water. You can't just pass it up. It's true. There's this... connection, when you're family. You love them, no matter how mean they can be. No matter how much you fight. You wouldn't be you without them. They mean so much to you. You'd give anything for them, even if you tell yourself you don't care. They love you, and you can't help but love them back. Because the love they give you, it's so powerful. It's not for their own good, it's all for you. It's amazing, and it's what makes family so important.

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Then, there are friends. Two souls, in one body. That's what Aristotle says. Think about how much that means. I mean, two souls... Two whole, different, separate people, in one body. Because when you're friends, it's not just you anymore. You can't have friends and be selfish. Everything you do involves them. You think about them every time you do anything; about how you could be hurting them, or how they will love what you're about to do for them, or how they feel, and how to make sure they are happy. That's why I think it's so hard to have lots of friends. If you had lots of real friends, you could never give all of yourself to them, and they couldn't give themselves to you. Only close friends, true friends, can do that. And most people are lucky if they have one.

I have a friend like that. She's kind, funny, and really cares about me. She pours her soul out to me every time she's happy, or sad, or angry. It doesn't matter. And I'm there for her, every time she needs me, and even when she doesn't. She does the same for me. She puts up with people she can't stand, just because I like them. It's all sacrifice, thinking about the other person first. It's love.

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But there's another kind of love; a kind people never seem to get right anymore. Nowadays, people only date so they can get as much physical pleasure as they can out of the experience. They even get married, but it's nothing permanent. They'll stay together until they get bored or sick of each other, and then they call it quits. They say divorce court only takes a few hours. Sad, isn't it? That people will go into that church and say "Until death do us part" and then go get a divorce a month later? That's not love. That's desire. Desire has nothing to do with love, not really. Love might start with an attraction, maybe a pretty face, or beautiful eyes. But it stops there, if there's nothing deeper. Personality, that's the next step. You have to connect, have things in common, care about the other person, even on a very simple level. Then, you need to be friends. Anyone who tries to enter a relationship without being friends first doesn't understand love, I think.

To be the closest, to want to be together forever, to love deeply, with your whole heart, that only one person, and never love another the same way... You have to feel the other bonds of love first. You have to be their friend. Their best friend. You have to want them as family. But there has to be even more to it than that. There has to be a comfort, not a passionate desire. You have to trust them with your life. Give them your whole life. Swallow that pride we all have and surrender to be completely theirs. When you love, you don't belong to yourself anymore. You belong to the one you love.

Kisses, holding hands, hugs... These are physical expressions of your feelings. If you really love someone, I think these come naturally, without forethought. You just... Kiss him because you love him. You hold his hand for the comfort of knowing he is there, that he is yours and you are his. You feel safe with him. No doubts come from your relationship, because you don't rush things. You have forever. You don't hurry into the physical side before you know if you love him. You love him first, and the kisses just come from that.

If you really love him, you can't picture life without him. You only want your life with him. You want to spend your whole life with him. And you want to do your very best to make his life as good as possible. You want to do what is best for him. If he's gonna be dangerous for you; try to get you to do bad things, try to rush your relationship, you don't want him, because what you what is eternity. And you can only reach eternity if you work to help each other, do everything you can to make the other's life perfect.

You don't care about the hard work, the pain you feel. I think love blinds pain. It come with pain. So much pain. But you don't care, because you will do anything for love. You will do anything for him.

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I think I'm in love. I think I know what love is. I've never felt like I do about another man before. I was his friend for years, and somewhere along the line, I fell for him. He was always my friend, the best friend I've ever had. We were so close, even when he had a thing for my best friend. I care more about him than I do about myself. I put myself through the pain of helping him in his relationship with my best friend, even when I loved him, because I thought it would make him happy. He had no idea. Because I wouldn't hurt him. I didn't want him to feel guilty. I wanted him to be happy forever, even if it wasn't with me.

But in the end, he told me he couldn't see forever with her. He saw it with me. We had a connection. We had fallen in love. We care about each other so much. I'd do anything for him, and he does everything for me. Holding hands, hugs, kisses... That followed. We didn't plan it. It just happened. He had to leave, while I was still in my last year of school. He went away, and joined the military. I hardly saw him for two years. But we never lost our love. I moved to his city, so we could finally be together. All the time apart only made us stronger in our love, because we proved the depth of our feeling through all the pain and trials.

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As I look out my window now, I see an old house that's too small, and an old Volkswagen that hardly runs. There are old, rusty bikes sitting by the porch, and a toy tractor in the sand by the trees. The hills roll away, toward the creek, and the forest in the backyard. A campfire is burning somewhere in there, and children are laughing somewhere out of sight. The sun is shining, and the summer is in full swing.

The papers on the desk are piled high. Bills. They come so fast! But there's always enough money to scrape by. I suppose dinner will be small tonight, though. I sigh, and put away the story I'd been writing. I think I do know love. It's that broken down old car, and the too-small house. It's my grandchildren camping in the backyard. It's the bills that tell me how much work we have to do. It's the little meal I'm about to cook. It's the "Happy Anniversary!" card on the fridge. It's my husband, who just came though the door, with his gray hair and weathered skin. It's the fifty years we've spent together.

I think I know what love is, and it's been here all my life.