Love a Little Harder

I woke up this morning and reached for my phone to text you good morning, then stopped. What if you didn't wake up? What if I didn't? What if this ordinary Tuesday becomes the last day we ever speak, and I spent it sending casual emojis instead of telling you what you actually mean to me? I mean, I haven't done that since last year November when you got me the wristwatch I really wanted.

The thought hits me like cold water: we live as if we have forever, but forever is just a story we tell ourselves to sleep at night.

Love a little harder, because tomorrow isn't promised. Not to me, not to you, not to anyone we're taking for granted while we scroll through our phones and postpone the important conversations. I've been saving my best words for some imaginary later that might never come.

How many times have I said "we'll catch up soon" and meant it, then let months pass? How many times have I held back "I love you" because it felt too heavy for a random Wednesday or too off key in an African home? As if love were something to ration instead of something to pour out like wine at a celebration we didn't know was ending.

The people I love are walking around in bodies that can fail, hearts that can stop, minds that can forget me entirely. The elder's hands are getting more fragile. My friend who used to be seventeen that year is now preparing for her last year in her twenties. My dad's hair is showing silver I pretend not to notice. We're all temporary, all on borrowed time, all heading toward the same inevitable goodbye.

So I'm learning to love a little harder. To say the difficult things now instead of waiting for the perfect moment. To call instead of text.

To text —

“Good morning,dad. I love you and I want you to know that in another world and lifetime, I'd choose to be your daughter a million times over and over again.

I hope you a very nice day today.❤️”

Instead of —

“Good morning,sir. I wish you a nice day”

To show up instead of meaning to. To forgive faster because grudges are luxuries I can't afford when time is this precious and this uncertain.

Love a little harder means looking people in the eyes when they're talking to me, really seeing them, memorizing the way they gesture with their hands and how they tip their head when they're thinking. It means not having my finances figured out yet but surprising them eith little gifts that still matter,to put a bar of my brother's favourite chocolate beside his bed with a post-it note. It means taking pictures not just of special occasions but of ordinary mornings and sunlight seeping into my mom's kitchen, because ordinary is what I'll miss most when it's gone.

Every hug could be the last hug. Every "see you later" might be a lie we're telling ourselves. Every petty argument is time we're stealing from connection, from the limited number of conversations we get to have before one of us isn't here anymore.

I don't want to live in fear, but I want to live awake. Awake to how brief this all is, how miraculous it is that we're here at the same time, breathing the same air, sharing the same moment in an infinite universe that somehow brought us together.

Love a little harder, because we're all just walking each other home, and none of us knows how long the road is. Because the people we love are gifts with no expiration date stamped on them, but that doesn't mean they last forever. Because saying "I love you" today isn't dramatic or cringe nor does it make you a softie. Even at that, what's wrong with being a softie? Be raw,be unfiltered,be honest in professing love to your loved ones.

It's the best thing you can do whilst this very brief show we call life goes on.