Love.

This morning as I was walking to my favourite neighbourhood coffee joint in Vancouver, I passed a man carrying a bouquet of flowers wrapped in red plastic.  He was carrying the flowers in his arm as one could carry a baby. I surmised that he was on his way to deliver his carefully chosen bouquet to his true love.  We smiled at each other as we passed.

Love is a story we tell, just like my story about the man with the flowers. Maybe he just likes flowers. On another day, I wouldn't notice, but today I not only noticed, but in the 30 seconds of time it took to notice, smile and pass, I had already written a romantic story in my mind.

Today is Valentines Day.  A day reserved especially for expressing the sentiment of love and romance.  This is a day of flowers, candy, cards and chocolates, of dinners out and wine. On this day the sun shines a little brighter, and the sky lights up and sparkles by night.

Love.  It's a word that exists in the English language only.  It's our way of expressing that feeling of connection for which we strive and endure.  It is our story.  Our connection to each other.  It is the language of poets, dreamers, artists and song writers.

Beyond Valentines Day, Love is the enduring and timeless gift that we share in this life that we live for a finite period of time.  Yesterday my daughter said I am getting old, something that only someone I love with all my heart can say to me.  I said we all are, so use time wisely and take care of the things that are important. Take care of yourself, I said in a motherly way.

If there is anything I have learned about love and life is to start as soon as possible and endure to the last breath, because the moments are all we really have.

I still love the flowers, but I love them every day.  This day can be a difficult day for some, so at the very least smile at someone and be kind and repeat for the next 364 days.