Recently, someone asked me, “Why do you write about love so much?”

I responded, “Why are you alive?”

They looked at me like I had seven heads, but even if I had three days, I couldn’t pick a better response. Chew on that for a while, I thought. There’s plenty of meat there for you. Enough to keep you fed for a week. Maybe a lifetime, I can only hope.

You want me to spell it out for you?…

With a scarf still wrapped around my neck, I blow into my hands, then rub them together hoping to see a flame. Just a glance at the wet coat next to me shoots a chill down to my toes. The smell of bacon wafts through the air, pacing the snow that continues to flurry outside. Each time the scent lands on my upper lip, I inhale, and my toes warm a bit.

Snowflakes land on the window. Some dissolve, others melt and race down to join the slush on the sill. Voices chatter as the kitchen door swings open, but fade out of resonance when the door closes. The creaky hinges resound in the background, sending another icey wave through my body…

When I am with family and friends, we’re having a great time. Smiling, laughing, and escaping life. That’s why they want to see more of me, I hope. I mean, that’s why I want to see more of them. I love them.

Here’s the thing, though. More time does not mean better time. It just means more. That’s it. And quite often, more just leaves you feeling like you’ve had too much. Fun becomes boring. New becomes old. Strong becomes weak. Empty becomes full. And yes, good can become bad…

Make the choice and own the result. Be sad or be happy, but never dwell.

Any time I dwell, I get hit with a three-punch combo that sends me to the canvas. Physical or mental, the canvas is devastating. Of course, you can pretend you’re living inside a movie—Rocky Balboa or something. You know, the whole “winners get up from the canvas” bit. They do, but I assure you it sounds sexier to get up from the canvas than it is to actually do it. I don’t care who you are—you get knocked down enough times, eventually you’re going to start believing you're a loser…

I’ve been thinking a lot about patience lately.

Patience is our ability to tolerate or accept delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry. At least, that’s what the dictionary says. We need patience, almost always. But patience is also saying “no” to option 1 in favor of future options. It’s easy to say yes to option 1. It’s available and open. It’s ready for the taking, and it often has elements of what we want. But is it really?…