In writing To Know You, Again and Again, I wanted to deconstruct the version of love I once held. Love is a daily choice to wonder, to notice, and to keep learning someone, over and over again.
To Know You, Again and Again
Before love is anything else, it is curiosity.
Love is a service, not servitude.
It’s not:
What can they give me?
How can they make me feel secure?
What can they do to keep me from feeling lonely?
Love, at its core, does not begin with What can I take?
It begins with What can I know?
It’s the ache to know someone… not just what they do or what they say, but the why behind it.
To ask.
To observe.
To remember.
To care.
To wonder…
Who are you becoming, and how can I help you get there?
How can I love you better today than I did yesterday?
Curiosity in love is a daily act of devotion.
It resists the assumption that knowing someone once means knowing them always.
It resists the selfishness that demands love to perform on command.
It resists the laziness that allows wonder to fade.
Instead, it invites presence.
It invites stillness.
It invites the humility to say: There will always be more to you than I know, but I want to keep learning for as long as you’ll let me.
What a gift it is to never stop discovering the person you love.
Love is not about knowing someone completely.
It’s about never losing the desire to try.
