A year ago today (er, tonight), I started what later earned the name "the love blog."
I remember exactly how I felt a year ago-overwhelmed with gratitude.
Gratitude for my students who embodied resilience and benevolence and who taught me how to be patient, kind, loving, peaceful, enraged by injustice, outraged by disenfranchisement.
Gratitude for my family who let me fly, mended me when I fell, and acted as the wind beneath my wings each time I planned to soar.
Gratitude for my friends who let me be me-silly and strange, unmatched, grotesque (at times), passionate.
Gratitude for strangers who bought me lunch on airplanes, shared their story with me while they made my coffee, offered almost unnoticeable gestures of kindness that lifted my spirit and restored my faith in humanity.
A year later, I feel remarkably similar although this feeling hasn't been present each day (evident in the chunk of missing days).
In a year, I've experienced the deepest sadness, I've seen my family quake through tragedy, my friends grapple with uncertainties, my students face extremely unjust hurdles.
I've also seen two of my dearest friends marry wonderful men, my nephews grow into amazingly intelligent toddlers who never cease to pull at my heartstrings, my parents grow closer to each other-something I didn't think possible given the strength of their relationship.
In a year, I've learned that love doesn't feel the same every day-love doesn't wear the face-love, though, is constant. Sometimes, like right now, it's overwhelmingly evident. Other times, it begs to be searched for-hides behind the sadness or the anger, It asks for us to uncover areas of ourselves in order to build a stronger bond with it.
Love is always here.
