I don’t usually write about things I know so little about…  love being one of them.  But, on Valentine’s Day, with declarations of love flying through air, it’s difficult not to contemplate about love. 

Most people first learn of love from their families.  Love was not a sentiment my parents expressed, either to their children or to themselves, so I grew up wondering if Iove even existed outside of fantasy.     

I was sixteen the first time another person told me that I was loved.  It was romantic love.  Young love.  Fleeting love.

Recently, I have been shown more love than I could have imagined existed in the universe.  But, even the love of my friends seems to grow weary with the relentless challenges I face now that I am homeless and unemployed.

My optimism has dissipated.  My joy in living has waned.  I never would have expected to look so bleakly into the future and find no hope.  No rescue.  No love.