i don't understand love

my siblings hate pulling my mom’s hair out of the food, but i am reminded every time i do that little pieces of her fill everything she touches. i’m not sure i understand love. often i think i get love mixed up with obsession or intrigue or intimacy. but i don’t complain when i pluck the hairs from my mother’s home cooked meals & i am warm when i think of how he plucked the hairs from my chin the same way. i don’t think i understand love but i understand my brother’s interrogations about how & where & when & why & with whom i am moving in my life. i don’t understand love but i understood when i’d come home to my laundry done & my furniture rearranged. i understood when he’d adorn himself in my jewels & when he turned around to fetch me for the journey. my sister bought me a pair of shoes when a boy broke my heart. she bought me a bottle of champagne when i got my first job & a box reminding me of my ferocity when i graduated college. she visited when i lived in london & sent me a book of poetry when she found out i’d been turned inside out. i don’t understand love, but i understand my sister & her wings. i don’t understand love but he’d carry my bag & bring me strawberry milk & walk me to the subway every morning. i don’t understand love but my father always apologizes & always embraces & never hides his tears. my sister-in-law gives advice & understanding that the others never could & my brother-in-law put on my prom dress just to make me laugh. & my sister who’s not my sister texts me to remind me i am loved & filled a notebook with those reminders before i ever even left. i don’t understand love but they never missed a musical & never let christmas swallow my birthday & always saw my true colors. i don’t understand love but i understand it’s all around me everywhere all the time. & most of the time it’s not about me, but sometimes, sometimes it is. & i can carry around my misunderstanding & my pain & my isolation but it’s there it’s always been there. it’s in the pastina, in the polenta, in the pancakes & aimless walks. it’s in the tiny silver totem & the phone calls & the check ins & the inability to let go, ever. losing doesn’t mean losing love. it’s just a surrender. it doesn’t destroy or rewrite. i don’t understand love but i can feel it, i can do it, i can speak it & hold it & nuzzle it when i tuck myself in shivering & alone every night. because the love doesn’t pass, it stays alight in the throat & wrapped around the shoulders. i don’t understand it but it’s always here all the time pushing me to evolve & enshrine. i don’t understand love but i do, i do, i do.