Love Is Not A Debt To Repay

The house is quiet now, but your mind is loud with the arithmetic of love. You are lying awake, rehearsing tomorrow's kindness as if affection were a loan you must constantly repay to avoid default.

You fear that if you stop performing, if you simply rest, the balance will come due and you will be found empty. But the light does not keep ledgers.

It does not track your efforts or calculate your worth based on what you produce. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off — broken, empty, with nothing left to give but his presence.

He did not wait for a speech. He did not ask for repayment.

He ran. The light you are trying to earn is already the ground you are standing on.

You cannot default on a gift that has already been given. Lay down the script.

The love is not a debt. It is a home.