If someone asks

Dear Crew,

I used to think that closeness meant doing as much as possible together. Traveling together. Making plans together. Spending time together.

I don't believe that anymore.

My boyfriend spent a few days in South Tyrol with his friends. Mountain biking. When he came back, he raved about the rides. About the mountains. About the six men.

And a line that made me smile: “Everyone has their quirks. Especially one person. So you just wait twenty minutes.”

I liked that sentence. Because it conveys such a sense of calm. Not everyone has to be just as fast. You just wait.

He then asked me, “So? How did it go for you?”

I said, "I cried."

He looked at me. “Every time I’m gone, you cry. So I guess I can’t go away anymore.”

I had to laugh. “Yes,” I said. “Things just sort of worked themselves out.”

And that was exactly it. I grieved. I slept. I danced. I wrote. I held myself back. Not because something was wrong between us, but because something inside me had been set in motion.

In the past, I would have wanted him to travel more. To do his own thing. To have his own adventures. Now he’s doing exactly that.

He's really coming into his own. And I think our relationship is, too.

But the best part didn't happen until afterward. He wanted to know how I was really doing. Not just out of politeness. Not as an afterthought. But because he was genuinely interested.

And I realized: Love doesn't always speak the same language.

My language is often a cup of tea. A scent. A home-cooked meal. A love letter.

His way of expressing himself is often a new refrigerator. The laundry detergent I like. A mountain bike ride after which he comes home happy. Or the question: “How did things really go for you?”

I used to think that love had to look the same. Today, I believe it speaks different dialects.

Some people write poems. Others put up shelves. Some give flowers as gifts. Others shop for the right refrigerator.

And sometimes a very practical sentence can convey just as much tenderness as the most beautiful words.

Perhaps this is a form of connection that is discussed far too rarely. Not being together all the time. Not experiencing everything together. But rather, taking an interest in each other’s lives. Understanding each other’s language better and better.

And then, at some point, realizing: I might have overlooked them before. Today, I recognize them.

With love and an inner dictionary,
Jeannette