My friend Rosa’s birthday is two days before Valentine’s Day. As holidays go, it’s kind of a weird one. It’s developed this odd, some-people-are-happy-a-lot-more-people-hate-it reputation. Rosa loves it, though. “It’s a time to celebrate love and family and happiness,” she told me as we were walking into breakfast, and I had one of those moments where the way you look at the world kind of shifts.
Aside from my fifth-grade year, I have never been in a relationship on Valentine’s Day (Colton gave me a Webkinz that year, if you must know). It’s not particularly horrible as a single person—there’s candy involved, and any holiday involving candy can’t be bad—but Valentine’s Day does a lovely job of reminding you of your loneliness when you’re alone.
Except you’re not. There’s a reason I’ve written about my family for at least a third of my Her Campus articles since joining the staff. If you have ever had a conversation with me, I have probably brought up my brothers. My teammates and other close friends likely know more about Jack and Alex than they ever would have imagined. I can’t help it—not only are they two of my most favorite people in the world, but (in my totally unbiased opinion) they’re also kind of amazing.
Jack is a minute older than I, and that extra sixty seconds filled his lungs with a second-to-none singing voice. There has been nonstop music ever since he learned to sing, and I can honestly say that I sobbed listening to him perform a solo when I flew down to surprise him at his first college a capella performance last year. But he’s more than a pair of lungs. Jack is incredibly kind, and his level-headedness has brought me back to earth more times than I can count. His sense of humor and amazing ability to mimic other people’s voices has kept our entire family laughing through the most difficult days and months. Finally, he has always been strong, confident, and remarkably unconcerned with what other people think.
Alex is a year-and-a-half younger than Jack and I, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s easy enough to be impressed that he is a Division I athlete, but there is so much more to Alex than his ability to move his legs (a lot) faster than your average runner. He’s one of the single most determined and hardworking people I’ve ever met, and his wit can match Jack’s any day. Additionally, he has a knack for making everyone feel welcome: Alex has always been the guy who will go talk to the kid standing by himself, has always been the one to ask what’s wrong and do anything he can to fix it. Plus, he committed to watching all of Scrubs and Lost with me, so that’s a gold star in my book.
When the three of us were younger, we fought constantly. People used to tell us that we’d become best friends one day, and we would roll our eyes. It just didn’t seem possible: we saw the world both too similarly and too differently to ever be able to share it. However, when we moved to North Carolina the summer before mine and Jack’s seventh-grade year, we had no other friends.
I could not be more thankful for those months when our family was the island I could return to in that new, unfamiliar place. We grew close in a way that I could never have imagined. Everyone loves their family, but I really came to love mine. And suddenly, I laughed at those times when we screamed and fought with one another, and I rolled my eyes at the Little Taylor who refused to believe that she could ever be friends with the boys who ran around the house in their underwear and lied about brushing their teeth.
If I’ve learned anything in these last few years, it is that love doesn’t have to be Love: full of big gestures, small moments, hidden smiles, and butterflies in your stomach. The Oxford English Dictionary’s top definition makes no reference towards romance. It talks about deep emotional connections, and those ties don’t have to be made of red satin ribbon with lace trimming.
They could be tied with the shoelaces of track spikes to teammates that have picked you up when you’re down and cheered you through the hardest, most wonderful moments of your life. They could be tied with a bungie cord that stretches across states and countries and years, yet it will snap back to its original closeness as soon as you return to each other. They could be tied with the vines that wrap around a family tree: stubbornly suffocating at times, yet constant in their compassion and loyalty.
And, maybe one day, I’ll feel the tug of that red satin ribbon. Right now, though, I’ve got plenty of people to love.
Image Credit: Oxford English Dictionary, Author