The funny thing is I don't ever remember him calling me pretty, he never commented on my golden hair or my blue tear drop eyes. He never really physically showed me either. He never tried to kiss me and I don't think he ever reached for my hand, but I knew and he knew.
It was in his eyes. The moment he saw me his eyes lit up, they glowed, they dazzled. He followed me like a lost puppy and I loved it- and I loved him.
Ill never forget how long I cried. How hopeless I felt. I figured it was all my fault but I just wanted him back. Anything to have him look that way at me again.
I learned very young that love doesn't have to be spoken, nor felt, nor seen- just embraced. It's not in the air , it's not in the words, it's not in the kisses- but it's just there. To be taken fully and wholeheartedly. To be consumed and immersed with.
That boy taught me more about God's love than any Pastor or scripture could. He taught me how to sit back and be adored to be loved and to be longed for.
For so many years I have been quietly grieving my loss and turning it into hatred for him. Thankfully, God brought me back this weekend so I could move forward. Now, I just want to thank him for teaching me love- without even meaning to.
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