In my youth, I thought that love was a tightening in my chest as timid fingers brushed the hand of a girl. I thought love was the shortness of breath, the hurt, as my grandfather’s ashes were buried in the garden. I thought love was my bride, beaming, as she walked through the church to recite her vows. But today, as my son’s little knees bend in time with Good Vibrations and his laughter invites me to dance; I realize that I’ve held a narrow view of love thus far. So, I’m finally open to learning what love truly means.