An Endless Cycle

How is that we love in so many ways and still only use one word for it in our language?

How can I feel the same emotion for the steak on my plate as the glowing orange sunsets at the end of the day? I sometimes question why our language has only one word with so many meanings.

Because I feel love for many things.

But I feel tenderness for things that comfort me in the sad moments and remind me of my childhood, where life was simpler.

I feel longing for the presence of my family or my dog when I am lonely in the day.

I feel desperation for the knowledge that I play some role in a life as fragile as a little girl peeking through the shut door whispering my name.

I feel yearning for the next sunrise that welcomes another day where I can make a change in my life, even if I don't take advantage of it every day.

I feel sincerity when I see the tears upon a face and feel them on my own cheeks.

I contentment when I stand on the wide plains with the wind at my shoulders and the grass under my feet.

I feel a lot of emotions but I know I can say I love them all because they all form a life that is full and beautiful. I love the sadness just as much as I love the joy because they all balance each other other out and, without one, the other would not be so great.

And that is how I know I love. Because I love many things.