“I Love You So Much, Mum”—I’d Say Over Breakfast at Fourteen. She’d Smile, “Then Just Peel the Potat…

I love you so much, Mum, I say one morning over breakfast, at fourteen.
Oh really? Mum grins back. Well then, next time before I get home from work, peel some potatoes for me. Ill feel your love without a single word.
I adore my cat! I nuzzle his warm, soft fur.
Could you perhaps change his litter, then? Dad asks.
Hes suffering, doesnt want to use it when its all damp…
I listen to my parents and marvel at them: Im talking about love! Why all this talk about cat litter and those endless potatoes?

I remember when I was only seven or so, and had to stay in hospital for a couple of weeks. It was outside the city, with very strict visiting rules. Parents could drop off parcels at only certain times, and the only way to see your child was from the hospital garden, hoping youd catch a glimpse at an open window thank goodness September days were still mild.
Mum used to come twice a day. In the mornings and evenings, the nurse would put a little parcel on my bedside table with Mums homemade cottage cheese, still-warm stewed fruit, a small pot of porridge, and a steamed meat patty. Just enough for a meal, since shed bring more in a few hours. And tucked along the side, wrapped in yesterdays Times to keep them straight, a couple of sketchbook pages where Mum had drawn clothes for my paper doll with little white tabs on the shoulders and sleeves for folding. I spent hours colouring and cutting out those outfits, and somehow Mum always made more for me dresses, skirts, coats, jumpers, pyjamas, each with bows, pompoms, polka dots, and new designs every time.
I never asked her for any of that. Those werent medicine, sparkling water, or chicken broth. She just knew how much I loved it.
It was Mums way of saying, I love you Even though I only truly understood it decades later, it stayed with me for life.
We often underestimate the little things
Lovely words, grand declarations, even poetry they matter, of course. We women love with our ears; we crave to hear I love you again and again. But if we dont see those words reflected in daily life, they turn hollow. Sure, you can say I love you with diamond rings or platinum cufflinks, a huge bouquet, or a ride in a hot air balloon and thats all wonderful (why not?).
But you can show your love in far simpler ways, and every day is a new chance as long as you really love with all your heart.

Some friends of ours have a dachshund who was paralysed in her back legs. For the past three years, shes lived on, as her owner built her a little wheeled trolley so she can go out every day and sniff the fresh air. They couldve carried her out or pushed her in a buggy, but she longed to walk on her own, so they gave her that chance, just because they love her.
When its real love guiding our actions, you find ways to show it every day. We do it instinctively, never noticing, not weighing or counting.

We tiptoe into a sleeping childs room, careful not to disturb them, adjusting their pillow so they dont get a stiff neck, pulling the duvet up over small feet so they wont get cold or, shaking our heads, softly take the phone from tired hands so no late call disrupts their doze.
We become master chefs, brewing the perfect cup of morning coffee, or laying out a cheese train across a childs plate, racing to a bright tomato and egg-flower at the end.
We listen for hours to a friend in need, dream up thoughtful presents, hatch surprises, create new moods.
There are times we give away our last bit of spare change for someones medicine
Well happily cut up a treasured necklace to sew beads on a tiny snowflake costume for a school play.

Life is so very long and so awfully short
Those little things linger in our memory, long after grand gestures fade. A loving heart senses those moments when I love you is needed most.

For as long as I can recall, Mum and Gran always went to meet Dad and Granddad in the hall when they came home from work a man ought to feel hes properly awaited at home. I try to do the same.
I sit in front of my computer, trying to untangle my muddled thoughts into something legible. I hear the key turn in the door and think, Ill stand up now just after I finish this row of knitting, so I dont lose any stitches. I look over my shoulder to the opened doorway, smiling, Just a couple of minutes, then well have dinner.
Suddenly, without a word (so as not to break the careful flow of ideas ready for the page), a cup of strong tea appears on my desk, next to a plate with two sandwiches and a couple of unwrapped chocolates. I glance at the sandwiches ham, cheese, tomatoes, olives, all thats left in the fridge, perfectly layered on slices of bread at the sweets taken out of their wrappers (so that I wont even be distracted by such a trivial thing), and I hear in the silent flat so many unspoken yet deeply meaningful words.

And I realise, theres no better way right now to say I love you, no fuller way of expressing it.
It truly matters learning to say I love you without words.
With a trip taken together and home-cooked roast potatoes, an ironed shirt and cheerful balloons, the longed-for doll and a timely refill of the cats water bowl, a tender kiss and a blanket gently draped, a shared umbrella or pancakes with bunny-ear toppings, smiley faces, hearts, laughter, glances.

It doesnt matter if youre listening to talk about the pressures of modern life or a missed goal in the latest Premier League match what matters is how you listen.
It doesnt matter whether youre sipping vintage champagne in crystal or autumnal coffee from a paper cup what matters is the feeling you share.
It doesnt matter if youre strolling the streets of London at night or wandering through a field of buttercups what matters is whos beside you.

We just need to remember: those endless, sparkling, and oh-so-desired words, I love you, fade far too quickly and lose all meaning if not backed by actions.
And that can never be allowed to happen.
Love isnt measured by words alone.