Good news, freezer bunnies! Love is goofy.
And it comes in all sorts of different flavors. One hundred and thirty-one, at least!
Love comes in the flavor of remembrance at the end of a long row of tombstones.
“Ted!”
Love comes in the flavor of family, when a cousin and an aunt are there, just to make sure that you make it through the heart break.
“Hang in there, pup!”
Love comes from a sister, who will even try a bad joke if she thinks it might take away that frown for a moment or two.
“So then the llama said to the cow…”
Love comes in a selfie, because you know days don’t last and night’s just around the bend.
“Store it in your mind, too!”
Love comes from a second chance, because the world is full of others, each one just waiting to love and be loved in return.
“Guh! Do I even have to bother?”
Love comes in a white cup that you give to your little sister’s best friend because we want to keep her around a while longer.
“They say it tastes like paste but feels like gold!”
Love comes when that sister’s best friend makes her long-time goofball romantic interest finally and officially HER BOYFRIEND!
(Thank you, Miracle, for bringing the sole goofball almost, sort of, into the family.)
“I’ve loved you forever, Dillon, and now YOU’RE MY BOYFRIEND!”
Love comes in red and white stripes, in a scruffy artistic, music-loving, off-duty Bohemian mailman. With floppy hair and a smirk.
Oh. Wait. I forgot. I don’t live in the game, and I’ve already got my steady life-long romantic interest. Never mind… Love’s goofy like that. It can make you forgot who, what, where, and why, when all’s you got is… this.
Oh. If I were a Bough, he’d be my beau!
Love shoots through a look…
He’s definitely got eyes for her…
Across a table…
And does she have eyes for him?
Love signals through a smile and a goofy hat…
Oh! He wore the wienerhead! Thanks, Quinn! You remembered the party tradition!
And sometimes… love is just a little too one-sided to actually catch fire.
She’s not really feeling it.
Love travels along the notes from a violin.
She’s a divine musician.
Love’s at the end of a paint brush, in the oranges and the blues.
Poplar’s greatest joy lies in painting.
Love comes from a sister who shares her love of music with you, helping you to find the true note that settles your soul.
Right this moment, Sugar completed her third adult aspiration through mentoring Salix on the violin.
Love comes from an aunt who knows her time’s nearly up, and who sends each of her wishes for her niece’s mended heart and long full life.
“I can feel it. I’ve not got long.”
Love comes from its twin, creativity, both sprung from the same source.
“With each paint stroke…”
And love comes at the end of a long life lived true.
“… I can see more clearly.”
Love comes when you’re ready for the next step, when your heart’s healed, and you realize you’re still young, and you’ve got all of life stretching out before you.
“I think. Maybe. It feels like. My heart is healed. I’m ready.”
Love might show up in a studded freezer bunny jacket. It’s done so before!
“I didn’t really want to play chess. I just wanted to get you over here. Where we could be alone.”
And love just might have very narrow shoulders and a big belly, a pear shape like a certain famous comedian who also wore a certain studded freezer bunny jacket, who just so happened to be the great grandfather of a certain Latin Willow.
“I’ve always thought you were cute, Chandler.”
And love might just be clumsy, art-loving, and cheerful.
“Don’t blink!”
And maybe, love’s name is Chandler.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited, Sal?”
And always, no matter how goofy–and how very long it takes to find–love is worth it.
