My mom expresses love by teaching me things. She taught me about geography and history and math and science. My house was always messy and small and nothing was ever in place and probably looked like a war zone, but I felt loved in the chaos. She also expressed love by cooking healthy food. I give her so much grief (and me and my dad and my brother make fun of her all the time) but I have realized for me, healthy food is love. Maybe that’s why I don’t worry about how things taste. That logic doesn’t really hold good because my brother loves good food, but it was a good thought. I love to create things. When I was little I would watch a lot of HGTV and I would try and make old furniture and junk into new things. I think I still have the VHS rack turned cupboard in my room (converted by turning it sideways and taping on painted cardboard doors with pushpin handles). If I had a house, I would want an apartment, or a small house and I would make all my furniture and my art. I like curation less than creation. My dad expresses his love by joking around with people. That’s how my dad and I communicate. I think that’s where I got my sense of humor from, and my love of comedy. I find relief in seeing the lighter side of things. I think that’s how life should be anyway. My grandmother expresses love through cooking. She is the best South Indian cook in the world.
It’s funny because if you don’t know how people express love, you’ve lost something that you never even knew you even had.
So I Quit My Job and Moved to India 