A TIMELINE OF LOVE

I was 6 years old when I had my first crush. My definition of love was simple: Disney princess movies, drawing hearts in diary pages, well-thought out birthday invitations, and giggling at slumber parties. And at the time, that was more than enough.

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I was 11 when I got into my first “relationship.” We were in sixth grade and walked home together everyday after school. He would call my home phone and we would sit in silence as we heard one another breathing on the other line. I was too nervous to say more than two sentences, but it was everything my 6th grade self could ever want.

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I was 17 when I first fell in love. We would steal pop tarts from his mom’s pantry and use whatever money we had left in our pockets to buy Arizona green teas. We’d walk around our neighborhoods in the thick of August and sleep in parks just to hangout a little bit longer. We held our own album listening parties, planned rooftop photoshoots, and skipped school just to hang out. He bought me a plastic choker from e-bay on my 18th birthday, but I treated it as if it was Chanel.

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I was 19 when I first got my heart broken. We were bad at love. Young, inexperienced, and selfish–expected reasons for breaking up at nineteen. I cried into my pillow so loud that my mom bursted through the door asking me if I sprained my ankle. She tried her best to comfort me. “This is just the beginning… love can always be found. It comes and goes, then comes again,” she said.

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I was 20 when I first broke someone’s heart. Is it worse than getting your own heart broken? No. But it’s pretty damn close.

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Since then, I’ve fallen in love, out of love, and maybe even a few more times after that.

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It’s safe to say my definition of love has grown since that very first crush. It’s not just romantic relationships anymore. In fact, the love I’ve experienced outside of romance has been just as fulfilling, if not more.

I found love in last minute road trips. I found it between midnight joint sessions on the porch. I found it lurking in the space of 2 am conversations. I found love in my little brother’s laugh, in my mom’s humming as she cooks, and in the splash my body makes as I dive into water. I found love in the pages of books I couldn’t put down, in the footprints I’ve left on newly explored coasts, in the pupils of my cats when they give me double blinks. I found it when hugging my best friend goodbye, on the flight I took to move across the country, and in secrets I’ll take to the grave. I found it in “I’m so glad I know you” texts, in three minute-long voice memos, and in the ink of hand-written letters.

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Your timeline of love might look different from mine, but the science of love remains the same. You hold the power to make love whatever you want it to be. Define it on your terms, then redefine it again. There may be moments where it feels like it’s lost. But my mother was right: love can always be found. Over, and over again.