All we need is love.

The first glance at a rosey cheeked, windswept couple bundled up to brave the elements but in love enough to entwine their bare fingers in the bitter December winds hurt like murder. Seeing a love so soul deep and pure so soon after losing something infinitely less perfect than that very sight caused an ache to spread faster through my heart than frostbite to my own foolish gloveless fingertips ever could.

Five months or so post heartbreak, the soul destroying, too excruciating to breathe one you think you just won't recover from; an angel with a name just as sweet appeared at my door. Even after the time we both let regrettably slip by, whether it be because of conflicting life schedules, the torturous internal battle of trying to balance self care with a 9-5 as tedious as watching paint try in super slow motion, it was like no time had passed between us at all as her knuckles wrapped eagerly against the glass.

“It’s your first one without him,” She said softly, handing me the most obnoxiously bright pink bag full of gifts with a smile just as wide as her outstretched arms. As if by some divine intervention, she saved me at the moment I realised I no longer needed saving. I decided that moment right then that I was going to stop just surviving my heartbreak. I was going to start learning how to live again. That hug was healing, hope and happiness all wrapped up into one and over far too soon.“Who needs boys anyway.”

As she tells me about her working week and plans for the weekend, I manage to suppress the smile that threatens to break my usual scowl, realising her mission to make me feel unforgotten today of all days, was absolutely, and in the best way, stubbornly typical of her. Her heart was a rare find, making our friendship that much more special. Her small act of kindness was the stepping stone I needed to find my way back to my best self again. Or at the very least, the new beginnings of her.

Little did the angel know I’d found another reason to smile again. “Don’t get involved, it’s too soon. Far too soon.” Chorus and verse of wait until your heart is ready reverberated in my head as I tried to navigate my new life through the winter, desperately missing being somebody that somebody loved, craving the warmth and comfortability of cuddling up to that one person in bed as the rain battered against brick and pane.

A few weeks later his footsteps dared to tread where the last one fled. Into my safe space, swapping stories with my family over Chinese food and football with the fullest concentration, sharing parts of himself others normally left till the third date. My family listened as intently as he spoke, and suddenly I believed in the possibility of love again. We laughed and he showed me his favourite music and we taught each other pieces of our past pain, how even the brightest of our lights just barely stopped the darkness on our worst days. Healing can be found amongst the broken as long as the fragments are always promised to be picked up as soon as they re-shatter. Broken people are the hardest to love, after all, but all the more grateful for that love in the end.

I realised that day as she drove away that I am worthy of love greater than what I lost and it is the purest form of privilege and greatest luck a girl could ever wish for. I am loved enough for rush hour road trips to bring bubblegum pink ‘Galentines’ day cards filled with my favourite tv quotes and chocolate so I didn’t have to face the first single Valentines day in over half a decade crying into endless handfuls of tissues.

I’m lucky enough to receive handwritten letters from my little sister in our own secret language, letting me know how much she loves me. More than she loves cake, to be precise.

Gratitude is often found in the smallest of moments. A cup of tea left bedside after being gently jostled awake. A towel thrown over the radiator as your other half showers early on a Winters morning. Get home safe text messages you read through bleary eyes in the back of a taxi on the way home from a night out on the town. The smile of a mother when you hold open a door for them, as they struggle to manoeuvre a temper tantrum throwing toddler past without further nuisance.

Your smile could be the kindness that stops somebody from falling off the edge, your advice sound enough to settle nerves and quell fears that have long caused stress filled days and sleepless nights. No matter how big an impression you leave on someones heart or how small the footsteps you leave in your wake; always remember to move forward with love.