Mama and Daddy are good people. Mama picks up prescriptions for the elderly, and Daddy reads to elementary schoolers long after both kids got their degrees. But when it comes to being a partner, this is what they taught me: love works like a dog that you forget to feed, love means always sacrificing, because anything else would be greed. Love means always bending and folding at another's words, and sending the kids to bed so you can draw your swords. Love is a prison sentence for which you can't remember the cause, but you never tell anyone your love has flaws.

I learned my lesson, so I’ve run from love like a Smith and Wesson. But this crooked smile given so easily and freely, well, it has me thinking maybe love isn’t that at all, really. When he holds me, and I try to run, he doesn’t chase me, but reminds me there is a seat next to him for one. He tells me I am smart, that I am strong, and beautiful, and that sometimes I am too willing to be dutiful. I tell him to love me like he's cooking a frog, slowly at first, so I won’t jump scared and head for the bog. This boy is honest and patient, his love is simple and kind, he makes me feel like love shouldn’t hurt. I hope for his sake I can mend my own mind.