What does it truly mean to say that love exists in silent places?

For so long it was such an ingrained belief that love is all about grand gestures and loud declarations, a romance that not only sweeps you but knocks you off your feet.

Is that what it truly is?

Are grand gestures the binding force of four decades of marriage and togetherness between my grandparents? Or were loud declarations the key in my parents being so sickeningly in love with each other until their last breaths together?

It is the everyday. And in this everyday of waking up next to each other, of silly squabbles and a cheeky “I told you so” that the grandeur of an enduring love rests.

I was blessed to have seen a love so transcendental while growing up that it is surprising I did not realise sooner that love truly does exist in silent places.

But now that I do realise it, and I do see it; love is soft like the morning sun on a spring morning and nurturing like the moonlight on a full moon day.