Of course her dumb Lab’s going to do whatever it takes to retrieve the ball. What he craves more than freedom is companionship.
Can you revive wilted tulips?
Maybe love’s more than the daily comforts: more than morning coffees and flowers and notes in my lunch bag and holding hands while watching the stars. It’s about never giving up, believing in each oth...
We’re lost in each other, in the heart of Toronto, slow dancing to nothing but the beat of my heart and the sound of her breath on my neck. I know the subway trains are trembling beneath my feet and t...
Family is the most important thing in this life.
Perhaps love in the digital age is more like Netflix binge-watching: we enjoy bursts of fantasy, and then move on to something else when it’s done. Like browsing for a new series on Netflix, if the re...
She can’t worry. She can’t ‘fix.’ She can’t love.
How can any of us even know what to believe anymore? Our culture’s full of so much phoniness and deception. Companies advertise products to make us believe that we will be more beautiful, more healthy...
Despite all of the social advances in women’s rights and the push for gender equality in the workplace, it seems like modern men still want a woman that they can take care of at home.
Can I Tinder swipe for cat cuddles?
Sometimes you have to fight for the past and sometimes you have to let go.
I guess love distorts our perception of reality, and it’s even harder to recognize the truth when it’s buried underneath layers of what we imagine relationships should be like.
Just as I’m about to continue walking along the shoreline, the left third of the iceberg breaks off suddenly and crashes violently, like a high-rise apartment building imploding in the heart of the ci...
The intensity of my grief hits the mountains across Eclipse Sound, and then echoes throughout Arctic. There’s nobody around. I can barely see the town below the hill, nestled within the valley of barr...
I guess all the time I spend on social media has made me believe that love exists above the surface, that it’s supposed to be light all of the time.
As I accept the flowers, I release my grip on the balloons, and they bounce gently against the ceiling the way they did before—hovering, annoyed, frustrated, contained by the ceiling and disappointed...
Even the tiniest of flowers can have the toughest roots.
Is there such a thing as being too happy?
