What is love? Shakespeare tells us that love looks not with the eyes but with the mind. I'm only ten and have yet to experience great love so I've chose to write about the only love I'm familiar with: the love my parents share. It's not a new love filled with burning passion, my sister says they don't even French kiss anymore, but it's the little things I see them do for each other that tells me what love is. Like in the car when my mom puts her hand on the back of my dad's neck and massages it, or when my dad warms up my mom's car and scrape the ice of the windshield on cold mornings and how they've launch to communicate with each other using their own special language. It's true we don't have a lot of money but I like to think even if we did, my parents will still be at home hanging out, of course in a much nicer house with a jacuzzi soaking tub. If you ask people what they think of the greatest love stories they'll say Romeo and Juliet or Hermione and Ron Weasley and those are fine, but if you ask me, great love stories can be small like my mom and dad's.
The Middle.
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