DIALECTS OF LOVE

There are 7,117 known languages.

A language is defined as broad and recognizable by countries. And then there are dialects. Dialects are more specific, often to a region.

For example, there is the Tagalog language.

A language spoken in my home.

But there is another that my mama and papa share and that is the Ilocano dialect.

There are over 170 dialects spoken in the Philippines, and just because there is Tagalog It doesn’t mean it encompasses the native tongue of this archipelago.

I think the same can be said about love.

Just as there are these universally recognized languages, there are also some loves more realized than others.

There is platonic love.

Familial love.

Romantic love.

And self-love to name the most common ones.

Then there are the miniscule, almost invisible parts of love from these people that we can just miss if we do not let our senses, our hearts, our bodies, our souls, and our spirits consume enough.

For me love is tucked in the sweet Filipino spaghetti my mama makes for me whenever I’m back home in LA because she knows it’s my favorite, it is found in the silliness of my papa-bestie dancing to karaoke songs because he knows my eyes will find him and will bring a laugh from me, love is shared with friends crying, playing WNRS over Zoom calls, finding comfort in a time of unwanted distance, it’s the world slowly opening back up again and a friend driving hundreds of miles just to see you for a weekend, no excuses, it’s also shared in spontaneous plans of sliding down a massive hill on a tiny ice block that is magically big enough to carry anyone who dares to sit on it;

Going forward, on your tummy, or if you’re really brave, backwards.

Love is felt with a lover, cuddled on a twin XL in the dorms.

But it is also felt in the comfort of their words when there is a sea in between you.

It is experienced with difficult coworkers and extending grace because we were met with grace by a loving Father.

It is found in the children who remind you that life should never be too serious where we cannot laugh and dance and play, who write you beautiful poems as a goodbye after spending almost everyday in the past year together.

Love is going on bike rides until the sun goes down and we’re met with the stars.

Love is a flower given, not just to romantic lovers but to anyone.

Too often we see big loves.

The grand gesture kinds blasted on giant movie screens or on shared password accounts.

Love that is splattered across the pages we read and dream for.

Love said in the words I love you.

But if we only focus on these 7,117 general loves, we’ll miss the more specific ones. The ones specific to us. To our being.

The ones catered to caress the hardened parts of our hearts.

The ones made to fill the crevices of the emptied spaces in us.

The intricacies of love cannot all be defined. It is shared, it is lived through, it is experienced.

Intensive Outpatient Programs

by Madalyn Higdon