I first noticed it at my second oldest sister Laura’s house, in her cupboards with the chipped cups and plastic plates. A sticky note with the words scrawled out on it. I noticed it again at my oldest sister Sarah’s house, painted across the outside of her kitchen cabinets in bright green letters. “I love my wife”. Both times I have seen these words, they have affected me to my heart and made me recognize that I believe in love notes.
This may sound like a very bad topic for an essay, but I believe it is important for everyone. Simple words written down with the deepest meaning can change people’s lives, and renew love that has grown stale. A simple “I love you” makes all the difference in the world to the person who receives it, and to whoever may come across it.
I remember the one time I found a love note written by my father for my mother. My parents have a very quiet relationship, one that is not shown openly but runs very deep. As a child I had fears that my parents did not love each other, since I never saw physical affection between them in the form of words or actions. I noticed one day that at the bottom of a note my father had left on the table were some letters. They spelled nothing, but stood for something I couldn’t fully understand at the tender age of nine. I asked my mother what the letters meant, but she only blushed and smiled and said it was a note between her and my father. That blush has stood out in my mind as a beacon of the love I rarely saw between them.
As I get closer to my own marriage, I have given and received many notes from my sweetheart, Spencer. He is at the other side of the world right now, but I can feel his love in the simple letters written at the end of each of his letters that only I can understand. Love notes are amazing; they last forever. The paper they are written on deteriorates and the words fade, but the person who receives it remembers it forever. It never grows old or stale. A love note is recalled again and again in the mind of the person who receives it.
My two oldest sisters and their husbands, and my Mom and Dad, have been married for many years. Neither of them show physical affection with their husbands where others may see. A swift kiss or a gentle touch in passing is all anyone has ever seen. But when I look closely in their houses, I find that a lasting love exists there; on note cards and sticky notes, and in bright green paint.
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