Love Runs Before You Remember

The day has finally stopped moving, and now the house is quiet enough for your thumb to start scrolling. You are digging through old pixels, hoping to find proof that you were ever truly loved, as if the light depended on a memory you could hold.

But the father in the story did not wait for a photograph to prove his son belonged; he saw him from a long way off and ran. The love was not in the robe or the ring or the feast.

It was in the running. The light does not need your archive to know you are worthy.

It is already here, sitting with you in the dim room, loving you without a single image to justify it. You are not loved because of what you find in the past.

You are loved because the light is still shining on you right now.