Love Is… Showing Up Anyway (Even After the Week You Had)

 

You remember those old Love Is... comics? The little cartoon couple with captions like:

Love is... sharing an umbrella.
Love is... never falling asleep angry.
Love is... holding hands forever.

Cute stuff.

But the longer We are together, the more I realize: real love isn’t always sunshine and roses. Sometimes love is 5 days of chaos — followed by pulling into the airport curb like it’s no big deal.

Monday: The Drop-Off

It all started on Monday.
I had the first flight out of GSO — one of those “set the alarm for a time that starts with a 4” situations. While most of the world was still asleep, Jamie was already up, dressed, and driving me to the airport in the dark.

No traffic.

No drama.

Just: "Text me when you land."

Easy, right?
That was the last easy part of her week.

The Five Days Between

While I was off training and eating my way around Chicago, Jamie was home running a full-contact obstacle course.

  • She locked down the entire house, including our own pack of dogs (How many dogs constitutes a pack, anyways? Pretty sure we might be halfway into the second pack already)

  • She took the time to send me pictures of Titus, chasing frogs on his nightly , I don't have to pee, but I need to sniff walk, because I felt guilty about leaving him

  • She spent the Day helping someone move — heavy lifting, endless boxes, every bit of “can you just grab one more thing from the truck.”

  • And in her free time, she was babysitting our daughter’s three oversized lunatics disguised as dogs:

    • Two Rottweilers — one of which is always off her medication, basically functioning like a 120-pound cruise missile fueled by espresso and bad decisions. Seriously this dog has the energy level of a sugar-high toddler wearing roller skates.

    • And one gigantic yellow lab mix 

The phrase "herding cats" doesn’t even scratch the surface. This was full-on K9 chaos.

Friday: The Pickup

Fast forward five days.
My flight home lands late Friday night — just shy of 10pm.

Now, anyone would have been well within their rights to say:
"I’m exhausted. Take an Uber."

Especially considering that on top of everything else, I had also managed to mildly completely annoy her earlier that day (completely my fault, of course — but the point stands).

But when I walked out of the terminal?

There she was.
Parked in a convenient spot right outside the door
Doors unlocked.

No drama. No lecture. No scorekeeping. Just:
"Get in. Let’s go home."

The Real Love Is…

That’s the thing about real love — it’s not always romantic dinners or grand vacations. Sometimes it's simply:

Love is... waking up at 5am on Monday to get me to the airport.
Love is... wrestling three extra dogs and moving furniture for five straight days.
Love is... dealing with a 120-pound unmedicated Rottweiler missile.
Love is... being mad at me — but showing up anyway.
Love is... pulling up to Arrivals at 10pm on a Friday, smiling, with no "you owe me" attached.

Thanks for the rides, Jamie Lee — I promise to cash in every mile and point I will  earn to get you to clear blue water, soft white sand, and zero Rottweilers.


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