Love came to me in the form of a Facebook conversation.
A message from what I called my “best friend” at the time.
His message read (in a very chopped up Spanish that was popular in the seventh grade),
“you will know love when that person can fart in front of you and it will not matter”
Love came to me at the dinner table with my family,
Standing up to fill the jar of water after losing to a “who says it last” match.
Love came to me in a little letter that traveled all the way from Miami.
Capturing my mother’s very thought out words,
which was something odd given she speaks anything she thinks,
as she said “estamos tan orgullosos de ti” we are so proud of you.
Love came to me on the first semester of college
In the form of a boy who thought of me when he saw flowers in the supermarket.
Love came to me in my sister’s constant posting of pictures with the caption “when are you coming back?”
When I know she has the days counted out.
Love is her sleeping in my bed because she misses our late-night conversations.
Love is my father’s asados he puts so much effort into.
The way the meat is perfectly crispy on the outside, but juicy on the inside.
Love is me saying to my grandfather “te quiero mucho Buelo”
And him replying “gracias.”
Love is the way I think of my mother and father every time I work extremely hard on a new project.
Love is my weekends in Batey Lecheria,
My little unconventional safe haven.
Love is grabbing your phone at 3 A.M to write down the lines of the poem you just don’t want to forget.
Love is everything and nothing.
All at once.