I think of my grandmother, who never said "I love you" with grand gestures. She said it by remembering how I took my tea (two sugars, a splash of milk, stirred seven times). She said it by keeping a spare key under the same ceramic frog for thirty years, just in case I ever forgot mine. Her love was not a lightning bolt. It was a lighthouse. Consistent. Unwavering. All of it.
May you find the people who give it freely. May you have the courage to give it in return. And may you, above all else, learn to keep the deepest well of it for the person who will never leave you— allherluv