Love on the fifth day is different than love on the first. 

Love compounds, gaining interest and worth through memories and time. 

Love on your wedding day is different than the love on your first date. 

Love after your first child is different. After your second somehow different than after your first, and yet a little different with a third.  After grandkids, different still. 

Love through life’s joys grows stronger.  Love through life’s traumas, stronger still.  

The days seeing ninety when you remember meeting at nineteen. 

The days when you’ve lost your words and memory, but instinctually reach out and still have the other’s hand to hold.  

Love on the day your children are carrying you to bed, praying you’ll wake up. 

The immeasurable weight of experience, weight of time, the weight of life.

Saying your first real goodbyes. 

One body stops working, loves compounding soon to reach its final sum. 

Love on the 26,224th day. The hardest one yet. 

Love on the last day, eleven days apart.