Love Hits Different
Love hits different in the winter.
It’s you stopping at the store on your way home.
Because I forgot one thing and I can’t make myself go back out into the cold.
It’s you walking the dog in snow and sleet, even though I said I’d do it.
It’s you bringing my snow boots in from the porch once they finally stop dripping.
It’s you shoveling out my car on the busiest mornings.
Actually, most mornings.
It’s you holding me tight when I miss my summer energy.
When I miss light filled rooms.
It’s sweatpants. Heat blankets. Dark chocolate squares.
It’s bundling up, peeling off layers, bundling up again. All day long.
It’s coming home to you.
That’s the kind of love I keep painting.
Because I’m learning to ask for help.
I’m learning to accept a helping hand.
I’m learning I don’t have to do it all myself.
