What Love Is

I have taken two trips to Searcy since returning to the country and there still wasn't enough time to see everyone I wanted. Surely there are worse problems to have, but what I want to share on here is the latest life lesson learned after seeing many, many dear friends.

Much of what love is, is simply to remember.

This a truth most know instinctively, but one that I came to understand fully when sitting with friends I hadn't seen in years (they graduated before I did) who still laugh at old inside jokes and tell me they missed receiving "Lucas-hugs." I understand more when former say-hi-while-passing friends asked me about Spain and remembered my plan of moving to Colorado. And I understand even more at the fact that so many people smiled and addressed me by name (it would have secretly wounded me if they had asked, "It's Lucas, right?") in spite of time.

Every inch of Searcy is covered in memories for me, and sometimes I fear that thinking back to them is at best embarrassing romanticism or at worst dressed-up denial. But I am comforted when Shelby shows me pictures of us from three years past, of when Jen talks of "the orange barrel incident," or when one of my dearest friends puts my arm around her for me and speaks soothingly of better times.

On my way home I stopped by my grandmother's house and we revisited many of the same stories and memories as always, but then she inquired of my visit, "Dare I ask if you saw Mary?" This took me aback, as it had been a long time since I told Mawmaw all about her. But she remembered.

To love is to remember.