Yesterday was one of those days that start normally but end with your heart in your throat. My elderly dad had a fall. It ended well, thank God, but at the time it was frightening. The ambulance came, kind paramedics checked him over, and in the evening my brother and my husband Peter took him to get further checks done.

I stayed at mum and dad’s home to keep mum company. We talked. We made tea. We pored over old photographs. We waited. And in the back of my mind, I kept hoping and praying for good news.

Then, at last, the men brought dad in, steadying him as he walked through the door. In one small moment, I saw the essence of my parents’ seventy years together: Dad stepped toward mum and gave her the most tender hug.

“How are you?” Mum asked softly.
Dad smiled and replied, “Good, now that you are here next to me.”

That was it. No poetic speeches, no grand gestures — just the truth.

And it made me wonder: why does the world chase thrills? Why do we idolise glamour, youth, and good looks? Do they add up to love? Is love calculated by smooth skin, perfect bodies, and outward beauty?

Or is the “good-now-that-you-are-here-next-to-me” kind of love enough?

What if the greatest treasures are not found on exotic beaches or in candlelit restaurants, but in the quiet, ordinary moments? The moments where you know someone is there for you — not because you dazzle them, but because you are you.

Maybe love in its truest form is this: a familiar presence in the room, the comfort of a shared history, the warmth of knowing that no matter what, you are not alone. It’s the kind of love that stays when your hair thins, when your steps are slow, and when life’s sparkle has dulled. The kind that doesn’t just survive the storms but somehow grows deeper because of them.

We spend so much time searching for meaning, beauty, and “something more.” But maybe, just maybe, it’s already here — quietly holding our hand, smiling from across the room, and waiting for us to notice.

And perhaps that’s the invitation: to treasure our partners while we have them, to hold our children close, to delight in our grandchildren’s laughter, to value our parents and grandparents, and to keep our siblings near in heart and in life. To cherish these fleeting seasons with the ones who make our hearts feel at home — because one day, these moments will be the very definition of love in our memories.