From the editor
As a little girl, I thought love would arrive all at once — obvious, unmistakable and life-changing. First, it was the image of a prince on a horse. Later, it became a football player and a prom date. I believed love was something you found, something that chose you.
What I didn’t yet understand was that love doesn’t arrive fully formed. It’s built. It asks for effort, attention and patience. And once you recognize it, you begin to see that love isn’t a moment you reach — it’s something you return to, day after day, in small and ordinary ways.
Over time, I learned that love isn’t just something we feel. It’s something we practice. It lives in consistency and care, often expressed quietly and without recognition. It’s the cup of coffee handed across the kitchen each morning. The reassuring touch on the shoulder that says, “It will be OK — we’re in this together.”
This time of year, love is often portrayed as grand romantic gestures — a single day, a dozen roses, chocolates or dramatic declarations of devotion on a card or Facebook. Those are wonderful ways to show that feeling but the love that truly sustains us rarely looks like that. It’s built slowly, shaped by kindness, patience and commitment. It goes back or fourth among partners over and over again.
I saw that kind of love in my parents’ 65-year marriage. As they aged, doctor appointments became more frequent — and unwelcome. Instead of dreading them, they reframed it. Appointments were booked later in the day, followed by dinner at their favorite restaurant. Love, for them, wasn’t flashy. It was practical. It was choosing to make the most of the situation. My dad has since passed away. When my mom travels with us, she takes a small framed photo of him and places it on her nightstand in her room.
My own love story began with Bob in 1989. We were college kids with no real plan — just a quiet sense that something was right. That early love was easy and hopeful, but it didn’t stay there. It grew and was shaped by work, children, mortgages, uncertainty and long days.
There were years when money was tight and life felt like a constant balancing act. I stayed home with our children early on, and we learned how to stretch, prioritize and simplify. We also learned that love isn’t about comfort. It’s about showing up when comfort isn’t guaranteed.
In 2020, our family experienced profound loss. In that grief, we came to understand that the depth of our pain was a direct reflection of the depth of our love. One cannot exist without the other.
As Valentine’s Day approaches, it helps to widen the lens. Love is not only romantic. It is the care we offer ourselves when we rest, the reliability of family, the friendships that hold our shared history, and the uncomplicated devotion of beloved pets who ask for nothing more than our presence. These forms of love don’t arrive with fanfare, but they are often the ones that sustain us the longest.
Love lives in repetition. In choosing one another again after long days. In showing up when it would be easier not to. In tending to relationships that feel familiar, imperfect and deeply ours.
This February, I hope we honor love not as a single celebration, but as a daily commitment — practiced quietly, consistently and with intention.
Thank you for reading Shore Local. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Peace & Love, Cindy
