Love in the Little Things

Love is not always loud. Sometimes, it’s so quiet you have to pause to notice it.

Today, I watched an elderly couple walking together, arms linked, laughing about something only they understood. There was nothing extravagant in their steps. No grand gestures. Just rhythm. Familiarity. Ease. That moment made me realize—real love is built from thousands of tiny, unspoken moments that accumulate over time like soft rain filling a river.

We often chase intensity. We mistake love for drama, confusion, or chaos. But love isn’t supposed to confuse you. It’s supposed to feel safe.

Love is when someone saves you the last piece of cake without asking.

It’s when they notice you’re overwhelmed and take over without needing to be asked.

It’s when a friend checks in on your bad day, even when theirs isn’t great either.

It’s the way your dog stares at you like you hung the stars.

It’s how you show up for yourself after a long, hard week.

We have to unlearn the idea that love must be loud to be real. Sometimes love is soft. Patient. Steady. It might not always feel like a movie scene—but it’s no less powerful.

Today’s question:

Where did you find love hiding in the quiet corners of your day?

Because maybe life isn’t asking us to search harder for love—maybe it’s just asking us to slow down long enough to see it.