My second book, Sweethearts, is an Amazon Kindle Daily Deal today, Valentine’s Day, which means the Kindle edition is a mere $1.99. I wrote this book to explore a certain kind of love between two young human people, love that isn’t romantic and isn’t not romantic, that is more than friendship and sometimes challenging to friendship. A love cemented earlier in life than some say you can really feel love, a difficult love, a loyal love. For the $1.99 Kindle edition, click here. [edited to add that it looks like special pricing applies to all ebook formats, so kindle, kobo, nook, etc!]
If you’ve read my books you know:
Love is my recurring theme.
And here on a day when a lot of people might be feeling lonely in a culture that says romantic love–coupling, pairing off, culminating in or including some sort of sexual relationship–is the only kind of love that’s really real, I wanted to say: that is a lie.
In the last couple of weeks I’ve taken note of at least five I Love Yous that were said to me or by me, and only one of them fits the Valentine’s Day version of love.
I drove a woman who does not speak very much English to an appointment and then on an errand that got complicated, and helped her navigate that. When I took her home at the end of it all, she said “Thank you.” Then she said, “I love you. I love you.” It was one of the only English phrases she knew for expressing something that she obviously felt was more than “thank you” could cover.
Also, there was an I love you to someone I care about who was apologizing for something, the kind of assuring statement of: I still think you’re okay, you can not be at your best and I don’t think less of you. It’s all good. I love you.
There was a deep I love you from me to my husband, that felt inadequate and came out of extreme gratitude for his acceptance of me exactly as I am, the knowledge that whatever of myself I bring to him, he’s going to show me care and devotion.
There was an exchange of I love yous with a friend after a series of difficult and emotional conversations of the sort that make you feel vulnerable and scared and doubtful that anyone could really love you or want to be your actual friend friend.
There was the I love you I always exchange with my friend Ann after we have our semi-weekly breakfast date. Steady, easy, reliable love.
These all meant something to me. These were all good. These each came in different contexts and phases of relationship, ranging from people I’ve known 25 years to those I’ve known barely one.
It’s all these kinds of loves I try to write about in my books. Romantic love, family love, failing love, friendship love, disappointed love, self-love, confused love, love in its many splendor shapes and sizes and textures. They all matter. They’re all valuable. They all make us human. They are all part of the Big Love, as singer-songwriter David Wilcox puts it.
So happy Valentine’s Day, whatever kind of love you have to give or receive.