Often, when I’m alone and surrounded by the beauty of nature, I’m filled with a love so intense that it frightens me. I want to shout it out at the top of my lungs. I want to find any outlet to release it, spread it around, and watch it grow. Inevitably, I end up crying silent tears. They are not tears of sadness, but tears of love – love that has outgrown my heart, pushed through my tear ducts and streamed down my cheeks. I think of all the people I love; of all the people who have made me big with their love. I hope that they know how much they mean to me, and I worry that I haven’t told them often – or recently – enough that I love them. I compose heartfelt messages in my mind and vow to send them when I next find connection. When I do connect, I’m easily distracted trying to find the next place to stay, posting pictures and stories, researching the salinity level of the Dead Sea (33.7%), the name of the little purple flower I saw the other day (Polygonum equisetiforme
) and countless other trivial facts that I somehow find essential to know. I log off, my vow forgotten and unfulfilled. Next time, I promise. But, what if there is no next time? So, although this is in no way an adequate demonstration of my affection, know that if you’re reading this, I Love You! Now, please, go tell somebody that you love him or her. I know I will.
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