Love is for fools.
Love is a burden.
Love is Selfish.
My 16 year old cynical self knew it.
I met a boy.
He offered friendship.
Sounded dubious.
But, he was funny.
And he had a dimple.
Then, he offered his love.
I had to run.
But he followed.
He said love was simple.
You only had to try it once.
I had no time.
My 20 year old disillusioned self was too busy.
I was hugged.
For the first time in my life.
(We don’t hug in our family.)
It felt warm.
Something I never felt before.
I wanted to run.
He told me I could practice hugging.
It may become a habit or even an addiction.
I asked if I should run?
My 23 year old finally found a job.
I made money.
I was happy.
But it was cold.
He told me to write to him every night.
End of my day.
I did.
Sincerely.
It became a habit.
It felt cold.
He was in another continent making a living.
He came back.
I saw him.
He Smiled.
I felt the warmth.
After a very long time.
I was not cold anymore.
I felt something.
That night I wondered if this was love.
I asked him, my teacher.
He said, there is no doubt.
My 25 year old was a married woman.
Every day since then I am learning.
To love.
I fail some days.
But most days I remember to love.
A little more than yesterday.
That I felt for him. For the first time.
That I feel for him. Only for him.
Its his alone.

Love, February.