Between the cold and the warmth

Being single isn’t the absence of love; sometimes it’s just a beautiful pause between what has passed and what is yet to come. A time when we learn to hold ourselves gently, to brew coffee just for one and find joy in the quiet of the house. We discover that love also lives in the small things: in a soft pillow, in the playlist that gets us, in the sunlight slipping through the window as if to say “everything’s going to be alright.”

When the cold sets in, we miss the little things that warm us more than any blanket: a sweaty foot tucked under the covers, a slow spoon-shaped embrace, a whisper in the ear saying “I love you.” Simple things, nearly invisible, but they fill the chest and let the soul breathe a little slower.

There are days when we long for the comfort of someone’s lap, for laughter shared in bed. But there are others when freedom feels as good as a long, hot shower at the end of the day. We keep finding ourselves, taking care of ourselves, and understanding that love – when it comes, if it comes – won’t arrive to fill what’s missing but to overflow what already exists.

In the meantime, I carry on with flowers on the table, cheap wine, lovely messages from friends, and the certainty that being my own company has been a daily act of love. And at its core, that’s what it is: learning to keep yourself warm while life quietly stitches together the next encounters.