When I was six, I asked my mom about love. She scooped me up into her arms and spun me around. She said that love is about wanting to hold on to a pretty balloon, and also wanting that balloon to soar to the skies.

At 10, I asked my mom again about love. She turned her body towards me and gave me an unusually soft smile. She said that love is like a tiny sleepy kitten crawling in your lap, and makes you the center of its world.

At 18, I dared to ask my mother once again about love. She reached out and held my hand with both of her cold hands, and said love is knowing you’ll be there for someone and never giving up on them.