The last traces of the snow from Snowpocalypse Atlanta are all but a memory now. But since today is officially el Día de los Enamorados, I wanted to do a quick post on one of the things in my life that is a permanent fixture. Love.

Don’t worry. I am no one’s doe-eyed hopeless romantic who waxes poetic about receiving chocolates, flowers, jewelry, greeting cards and fancy dinners. Romance does have its place. However, I believe in love…the action word. While many reflect on Valentine’s Day purely in a romantic sense, I tend to be more introspective about the varying loves that I have (and had) in my life…ALL of them. I’ve mentioned on my blog before that I no longer have the first two men in my life to show me real love – my father and my brother.  Each demonstrated to me how women should be treated in relationships.  Both have passed on and I miss them dearly. 

Don’t misunderstand. I am still blessed with family that I adore and they major in reciprocity…for that, I am grateful.  My beautiful Mama and loving husband are HUGE examples. As a reminder, I have nice-sized block letters that sit over at the head of my bed that were created from recycled magazines. Got them in some hippie-bohemian store a few years back. I was drawn to them because each letter was literally built from old stories. For me, love is built on old stories and past experiences and it is sustained through sacrifice and perseverance.  My ultimate goal is for love to be reflected in everything that I do.

I used to hear people talk about love of self and thought that it was cliché. But now, I get it. I am teaching that little brown girl from Tampa how not to be a perfectionist and how mistakes are requirements in the growth curriculum. Basically, I am learning how to cut myself some slack and love me through my perfect imperfections.  Life is too ridiculously short to do otherwise.