We were walking through a reserve with friends, the dogs off leash, weaving through the grass and following every scent. My husband was a little ahead with the dogs, while the rest of us trailed behind, talking about mundane things and laughing.
And in that ordinary moment, something struck me.
For most of my life, I had compared him to my father, quietly, somewhere in the background. My dad has always been my benchmark for love and care, the standard I measure every man by.
But watching my husband there, leading the way, I realised something – love isn’t meant to be compared.
What my parents had built was beautiful, a warm, safe home filled with care. But love doesn’t repeat itself in identical shapes. It arrives differently with each life, each partnership, each story. Often, it’s quiet. Steady. Woven into the small, everyday moments we barely notice.
And that’s what I have now.
A life I actually want: quiet walks with my dog, a home that feels safe, and people around me who lift my energy rather than drain it and yes, a marriage where we argue, sometimes every week, but in ways that are healthy, honest, and real. And someone walking just ahead, choosing me every day in ways both simple and profound. Someone who makes my favorite chai for me every single day without fail, just because.I never cared for grand gestures anyway.
It might not be loud. It might not come with fanfare.
But it is enough. More than enough.
Because love like this shows up in the ordinary: dogs off leash tugging happily, conversations about nothing, laughter drifting in the air. It shows up in consistency, in care, in choosing each other quietly, every single day.
This is what the younger version of me always wanted.
Not wealth.
Not fancy cars.
Not a life that looks impressive from the outside.
Just love.
Tender, unwavering, deeply human.
The kind that doesn’t need to shout or dazzle,
the kind that holds you through storms, celebrates the quiet mornings,
and simply, relentlessly, chooses you again and again,
walking beside you, hand in hand, through the ordinary and the extraordinary,
every single day.
