Obstacles
Obstacles.
I’ve become aware of them in life,
as if they are placed in our path—
not always to stop us,
but to see what remains when we are challenged.
In relationships, obstacles can feel endless.
Work pulls at time.
Responsibilities grow.
A new family, new roles, shifting priorities—
all of it can begin to interfere
with what once felt simple and close.
And so we ask…
how do we keep a relationship solid?
Committed… even when life is pulling one,
or both, into entirely different realms?
For so long, I believed love was something we worked toward.
Something we improved.
That we became better for one another—
more understanding, more patient, more aligned.
As if love needed shaping…
refining…
perfecting.
But even as I thought that,
something in me questioned it.
Who am I to define what perfect is?
And why did love feel like something
that needed to reach it?
That word—perfect—
quietly became the problem.
Because love, in its truest form,
does not wait to become something more
in order to remain.
And yet…
I can feel the answer.
Not as something I’ve been taught,
but as something I recognize.
There is a kind of love
that does not weaken when life becomes heavy.
It does not demand more
when the other is carrying much.
It does not tighten in fear
when distance appears.
It remains.
Not because everything is all right,
but because something deeper is.
A relationship does not stay solid
because it is constantly tended to,
adjusted, or perfected.
It stays solid
when two people are anchored
in what they know is real.
Even when time stretches.
Even when responsibilities grow.
Even when one is fighting a war
the other cannot fully see.
Love does not require constant closeness
to remain true.
It requires presence within oneself.
Because the moment love depends
on constant reassurance,
it begins to lose its natural form.
But when it is known—
quietly, without force—
it becomes something
that no obstacle can undo.
Not because life is easy…
but because what holds it together
was never fragile to begin with.
