I’ve spent much of the year thinking about the meaning of living. I’ve watched as others have defined what it means.

What is living?

I used to think living was seeing the world and traveling to places I’ve never been.

I used to think living was the first glimpse of the ocean or sitting on the beach at night while tide rolls in and counting the stars.

Maybe . . . a small piece of is.

But I’ve learned, we haven’t forgotten the meaning of living.

It’s not that people forget how to live.

It’s this:

People forget how to love.

What is life without love?

What hearts can we touch without it?

What mark do we leave behind?

What’s left of ourselves when we’re gone?

Love.

Living is loving. Live love.

Thanks for reading! ♥
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