I’ve been out on the road a lot lately, leaning into my nomadic instincts, running around from one city full of friends to the next. I suppose in some way I’m trying to find myself. And in others I’m trying to escape the sadness that comes from a closing chapter.
The journeys to and from Boston and San Francisco and the Hudson Valley give me time to think and watch and reflect (something I’ve been doing a lot lately). When I take the train, I stare out the window at the landscapes around me and my troubles and worries begin to feel small as I remember how big the world is.
I observe the people around me as well- the joy on children’s faces when they get airport ice cream, and the tired smiles their parents give in return. The subtle ways humans care for one another by picking up fallen items, or giving up their seat, or simply watching after their loved ones until they make it past security. In the in-between space of a journey that can feel lonely, there are so many reminders of how connected we all really are.
When I arrive at my destination, I am always overwhelmed by the level of care put into my visit. The people who love me put fresh sheets on the beds I stay on in their cities. They plan sweet weekend itineraries full of comfort food and downtime. They listen to my ramblings and nonsense with rapt attention. They remind me that love exists in my life even when I forget to look for it.
A while ago, I listened to the audiobook of Dolly Alderton’s memoir, ‘Everything I Know About Love,’ and even though the message resonated then, the past few months reminded me yet again that just because the love we experience might not be romantic, that doesn’t mean it’s not just as, if not more, valuable.
We forget sometimes, in a world fueled by romantic intentions and happily-ever-afters, that the most simple acts of platonic love are often the most beautiful. When my friends make up the bed for me to stay over in their homes, with fresh sheets that smell like detergent and blankets carefully folded at the foot in case I get cold, I know I am loved. When my dad agrees to watch my cat for the week while I galavant, I know I am loved. When my aunt orders sweet and sour chicken from the Chinese restaurant for me to eat when I awake from a 3-hour late afternoon nap, I know I am loved. Even as I write this, I tear up thinking about the deep care my people show me everyday.
As many of us do, I used to think I would be saved from a life wrought with loneliness by some kind of knight in shining armor. I was a sullen and forlorn teenager because I so often forgot to look up and acknowledge the vast amounts of love already surrounding me. Other times, I was so caught up in my own narcissistic agenda that I assumed the people around me didn’t love me because I didn’t recognize the actions they used to express it. Gratitude is a skill that takes time to learn.
If I had the ability to look up and see clearly, I would have understood how loved I was much sooner, and would have acquired the skills to show love to the people I cared about in a productive way a lot faster. It would’ve made the journey a little easier. But easy lessons never stay with us.
Life is hard, and unfair. But, the cards we are dealt feel easier to hold when we shine light on the love that surrounds us all. Lean into the acts of kindness your people extend you. Offer them comfort in their time of need. Let go of the notion that only romantic love holds value in this world. These are reminders I still have to give myself everyday, though they’re becoming more sticky in my mind.
Next week, I’ll take a plane to Denver, then drive down to New Mexico, and back again, to spend the weekend seeing all the people I love in that city. I’m so excited to see my people, to accept and be grateful for their acts of love, and to extend the same to them. When we see and acknowledge the light and love in the world, the burdens of life feel so much easier to carry.
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