I love you but

Ask me anyday and I will say that I love you. But on the other hand, I don't know what loving means. To love is to strain oneself for another. To love is to be forgiving.

To love is to be giving, without expecting anything in return.

And sometimes, I wonder.

Like the time you came home from your football practice and I was mad that you chose to spent time running after a ball instead of helping me clean the house.

Or the time that I was annoyed that you signed us up as volunteers without checking with me first.

Or when I realize that you have stopped writting me love letters as you once did.

Dear, I do say that I love you, but sometimes I wonder: If I loved you, what I think like this? Would I act like this? Would I speak like this?

A year ago when I really wished that you'd be mine, I would have signed up for hours and hours of voluntary practice with you! Or I would have spent hours just watching you play.

But how is it now that I have my heart's deepest desire - now that I can call you mine, now that I can love all of you, I wonder?

Ask me anyday and I will say that I love you. But on the other hand, I don't know what loving means.

Or maybe I am just not trying hard enough?