What Is Love Teaching You?

Love has been my quiet teacher. It has come to me in moments so small I almost missed them, yet in their simplicity, they stayed with me. I have learned love is not always grand, not always loud or dressed in declarations. Sometimes, it slips in silently, unassuming, yet undeniable.

I have seen love in my mother, her back bent not just from the weight of her job but from the unspoken sacrifices she carries for us. I have watched her frustration bubble over after long days—Her sharp words hiding her tiredness, and still, she comes home. Every single day, she comes home. This, I learned, is love: showing up, even when you are too tired to.

My sister, distant at times, communicating through shared reels or silent reposts instead of words. Her actions say what she won’t—she remembers me in her own way. I have learned that love doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it’s quiet, subtle, and hidden in gestures only you understand.

I have seen a lover respond to a chaos with presence. When my life unraveled in a certain moment, when emergency called for clarity I didn’t have, they called everyone who mattered and anchored me. Love, I learned, isn’t about solving all your problems—it’s about standing with you in the middle of them.

I have seen love in my tired aunties, their faces lined with fatigue, gathering at midnight in prayer. Kneeling together, heads bowed, voices soft and steady, they prayed for our families, our communities. They taught me that love works in the unseen spaces, in whispers offered to the universe on behalf of someone else.

My friends—those beautiful, extraordinary souls—have shown me love in a thousand ways I didn’t know I needed. They send me Instagram reels, ones that make me laugh when I have forgotten how. They have pulled me into their kitchens, cooking for me when I wouldn’t feed myself. They never ask for thanks. They don’t need to. Love, I have learned, is often about meeting people where they are, even when where they are is a mess.

And so, I have come to understand love in its many shapes and forms. It doesn’t always feel the same, and it rarely looks the way I expect. Most of what I have known has come from family and friends—their patience, their care, their consistency. Love is a quilt they made for me, with each piece representing a kind moment, understanding, or sacrifice.

Love touches you. Sometimes, it brushes lightly, like the wind grazing your cheek. Other times, it presses firmly, like a hand gripping yours in the dark. It leaves you feeling—everything, all at once, or nothing at all until days later when the memory warms you.

Love guides you. It steers you toward your better self, toward people who make you whole. It doesn’t always make sense, and it doesn’t always feel fair. But it leads. It moves.

Love opens you up. It unravels the tight knots you didn’t know you had. It softens your defenses, sometimes against your will, and lets in the light.

What is love teaching me? That it is rarely perfect but always profound. That it lives in both the extraordinary and the ordinary. That it isn’t always comfortable, but it is always worth it.

So, I will ask you the same question: What is love teaching you?