On Love Quietly- A February Series
There are some types of love that don’t end in answers.
They’re not resolved neatly or fade into the background on command. They llinger–just barely in frame–weaving themselves into ordinary moments disguised as neutral. A well traveled street. Some songs we didn’t want to hear. And a thought that takes over without permission.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about this particular love.
The kind that won’t disappear, because there’s nowhere obvious for it to go.
The Love that isn’t returned.
The Love that arrived a beat too late.
The love that once held a strong shape and now doesn’t.
It’s the type that exists in that weird in-between limbo.
“Not all love is meant to be lived out. Some of it stays with us differently. “
Often we’re encouraged to let it go as quickly as possible. To move forward faster. To replace that loss with something shiny and new. And maybe at times necessary.
But I also believe that there’s a quieter truth that is often shoved into a dark corner to be overlooked. I just think that there’s some love that doesn’t need to be erased for people to keep living.
Some love just needs time to change.
A shift from something we’re trained to reach into something we carry.
Something active into something for remembrance.
Something heavy into a memory that simply exists– no longer demanding, but still holds meaning.
There’s a kind of tenderness when we allow love to exist without asking for justification.
It doesn’t mean staying stuck or reopening wounds that we’ve worked so hard to close. Gentleness–the kind I’ve spoken about before in this series–includes boundaries.
It includes knowing when to step back. When it’s time to let go. That raw honesty about what shaped us. About what matters and why it does, even if it didn’t stay.
Some love doesn’t get a future.
That doesn’t mean it’s meaningless.
“Love doesn’t have to last forever to leave something worth keeping.”
If you’re holding something like this right now– that feeling without a destination–I don’t think anything is wrong with you. I think you cared, simple as that. And caring always leaves traces.
Maybe the work, at least for now, isn’t to decide what to do with the love. Maybe we just need to acknowledge it without judgement.
To let it rest where it is, and don’t rush towards resolution.
There’s still time.
More Soon,
Quill
