On tiny signs of sweetness
the little ways we say, "I love you"
Just this week, my daughter brought me 2 scraps of paper with her very own doodles. The guy I’m dating brought me some key lime pie. My co-worker texted me an excited message of glee about a fun lunch we’re having in a couple of days. A bunch of Spanish rice my mom made for me and the kids (we all LOVE her rice). My dog, Margot, curled up by my side. It made me realize, despite the world, despite the gloom, despite the rainy weather… All these little signals of love surrounded me. These little sparkles of acknowledgment, support, silliness… love-love-love was all around me. I didn’t even have to hear those three words, I could feel it.
1-4-3. A tiny code that holds something massive. It’s funny how just a few syllables—“I love you”—can feel like both a whisper and a thunderclap. These are the words entire novels build toward, the reason movie scores swell, the spark that turns two people into main characters. And yet, they’re also the words that slip out while folding laundry, passed quietly between dishes or errands or bedtime routines.
I love you. As a friend, a partner, a soul twin, a forever person. However it’s said, however it’s meant, it still lands like a warm hand on your back—comforting, steady, true.
Sometimes I catch myself people-watching—at a cafe, at school pickup, at Trader Joe’s—and I start imagining all the tiny love stories unfolding. Who said it first? When did it shift from like to love? Have they had to find their way back to it? That Hugh Grant line lives rent-free in my head: “Love actually is all around.” And honestly? It really is.
Because love doesn’t always sound like “I love you.”
Sometimes it’s memorizing a coffee order.
Sometimes it’s dropping off soup and crackers without being asked.
Sometimes it’s saying “text me when you get home” and meaning it.
Sometimes it’s hearing someone mention a bad day and texting them a dumb meme just to pull them back into the light.
It’s picking up tulips for yourself on a gray day. It’s sending a 6-minute voice note to your friend about your boss, your ex, your weird dream, and asking nothing in return except, “did you listen yet?”
It’s telling your partner they look good in that new shirt.
It’s offering the good blanket.
It’s noticing.
It’s staying seated because the dog fell asleep on you, and there’s nowhere else you need to be.
Love can be loud or quiet.
Planned or spontaneous.
It’s felt in the space between words, in a shared glance, in a “just checking on you” text.
And maybe the best part? The love you give doesn’t disappear into the ether. It comes back. In tiny ways. In soft echoes. In people who remember what matters to you, and show up. Not always perfectly. But still, they show up.
That’s the magic. Love lives in the little things.
Share a way you say “I love you” in the comments!
The Second Act is an entirely reader-supported publication written and created by Danielle Wraith. Click here to subscribe or gift a friend a subscription here (if a friend sent you this —tell them thanks!). Anything you want covered? Questions? Reply with a comment below! You can also find me on Instagram. Please come say hi!