This is the love we are born into; it is the look in a mother’s eyes as she swaddles her child in blankets weaved of hopes for the future.
This love is the most primitive in form; it is the father’s pride as his child takes his first steps.
This love is instinctive in nature; it is the child seeking the comfort of his parents’ arms at the sight of danger, at the feeling of hurt.
This love is intrinsic; it is the newborn baby’s cries subsiding at the sound of his mother’s voice as she sings him to sleep.
This love is what we are made from; It is the promise of all the love we have yet to give and be given.
This is the love that grows on you; it is the person you sit next to on your first day of college without realising that they will also be the person who will help you through the hard times of your future. This love is forged out of the fondest friendships; it is the friend holding her best friend’s hand at her father’s funeral.
This love is born of kindness and good intentions; it is the boy buying bread and milk for the old lady next door.
This love is one which we choose to manifest ourselves; it is the graduate doctor volunteering for 6 months in a third world country.
This love is the love we create of our own free will; It is the selfless love that we give with no expectation for reciprocation.
This is the love we think we are born for; it is what keeps you up at night drawing conclusions for the future from the situations of the present.
This love is born of childhood fantasies and the things that fairy tales are made of; it is the culprit of the butterflies the youth feel as they deem themselves swept off their feet.
This love is merciless in its addictiveness; it is the teenage girls’ dependency on the boy she thinks is her other half.
This love is persistent; it is the transgenerational muse of timeless musicians and will be the infectious inspiration of songs yet to come.
This love is beautiful but fleeting; In its wake will be walls of memories in the chambers of our hearts.
This is the love we live for; it is the curled ribbon that ties together all the loose ends of past and unreciprocated loves and wraps them into something that makes sense.
This love is powerful; it is the love that reduces a grown man to tears as he looks at his blushing bride walking down the aisle.
This is the love that will never grow old; it is the old man looking at his wife in their old age, thinking only of the laughter and happiness that carved the lines on her face.
This love is indestructible; it is the widow’s kiss on the faded photograph of the son she loved too much and lost too soon.
This love transcends beyond the concepts man defined as space and time; beyond our mortal ability to comprehend.
And then my darling, there is love like ours.
The kind of love that only you and I will ever know.