Ah, the infamous three words, “I love you.” For some, it’s a verbal affirmation as necessary as breathing; for others, a trite cliché. But in my household, it’s like hunting for a unicorn in the big city — highly unlikely but always deeply desired.
Growing up, I noticed a distinct lack of these magical words, not because they weren’t felt but because they weren’t said.
Now, in my 30s, I’ve come to understand that the absence of these words has its roots, not in the absence of love, but in a language and culture of love that’s vastly different from the Hollywood version we’re spoon-fed.