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Can you share a positive example of where you’ve felt loved?

I close my eyes

and I am small again.

A school playground.

Dust on my knees.

Noise in my ears.

And there she is,

standing by the fence

with a secret smile,

holding sweet potatoes

wrapped in her careful hands.

She signals to me, quietly,

like we are planning a small escape.

No teacher should see.

Just love traveling over a wire fence.

Even now

I can taste them.

Not the potatoes.

Her hands.

Another time.

A forest at night.

My job, my duty,

numbers and notebooks

and a darkness too big for one person.

People said,

be careful,

tigers roam here.

I remember the fear

sitting on my shoulder.

Then a light appeared.

A stranger with a torch.

A tiny hut shaking in the wind.

They had almost nothing

and still they made space.

For me.

For them.

For a little girl doing homework

under a tired kerosene lamp.

That lamp felt like the sun.

That was love.

Love has worn many faces.

Ex-partners, old companions,

too many stories to count.

Some names lost,

some jokes faded,

but the warmth stayed.

We walked different roads,

never knowing the exact moment

our hearts decided to hold hands.

Love never asks for direction.

Life only changes the map.

Some people broke my heart.

And yes,

that was love too.

Pain with a purpose.

A lesson dressed as goodbye.

Once an old lady stopped me.

A complete stranger.

She looked at me and said,

“You remind me of my son.

I used to make him omelettes.”

And suddenly I was in another kitchen,

remembering a day

I asked for the same simple thing

and was turned away.

One place had plenty

but no kindness.

Another place had nothing

but a full heart.

Tell me,

which one was richer?

Sometimes I wonder

if the great, divine love

is still waiting for me.

The kind that hugs you so deep

the whole world changes color.

Maybe I haven’t found it yet.

But when I count my life

like beads on a string,

sweet potatoes over a fence,

a lamp in a storm,

strangers who became shelter,

hearts that shaped me,

I realize something.

Love has already been here.

Again and again.

Not loud.

Not perfect.

But real.

So if you ask me

for a positive example of love,

I will smile and answer,

My life.

My ordinary, messy, beautiful life.

What snack would you eat right now?

What snack would you eat right now?

Chips?

Chocolate?

Something to kill time between thoughts?

But if there were a snack of love….

I would not check the ingredients.

I would not read the label.

I would not ask where it came from.

I would eat it.

Immediately.

Let it melt on my tongue,

not rushed,

not shared,

not explained.

A taste that doesn’t disappear

when the room gets quiet.

A flavour that survives

the insipid moments,

the days that forget your name.

And even when it’s gone…

the memory of it

would sit somewhere in my chest,

recharging me

like a phone left on the table overnight.

A snack of love

would change how I show up.

And if there were a snack of kindness…

oh, I would stock up.

Packets upon packets

stacked in the drawer.

Anyone says they’re hungry,

tired,

ignored,

invisible…

I wouldn’t ask questions.

I’d just hand it over.

“Here.

Try this.”

Let them taste what it’s like

to be treated gently

without earning it.

Because the real snacks,

whatever we eat,

only make us full

for a moment.

But love and kindness…

they fill you long enough

to survive in this city.

They don’t just quiet the stomach.

They fill the heart.

They settle the soul.

And suddenly,

you’re not starving anymore.

You’re alive.