Aren't there supposed to be fireworks?

I was recently asked if I knew what love is and I hesitated and then said no, however I realized after a little time 'ponderating' that I did in fact know what love is. My ex and I have a mutual friend who couldn't understand how I was so loving towards him. How could I have come from the parents that I did, and yet have the disposition that I have? In a relationship, I enjoy letting those I love know that I love them, I enjoy hugging, let's not even talk about kissing and well the cuddling, a dear friend of mine told me that I'm a cuddle whore and I took it as a compliment. There's just something about cuddling that takes intimacy to a whole different level, something for me, not even sex can achieve.
Now if you know my parents or if you are good at inferences you would have realized from previous posts, or conversations with me that my parents weren't really the type who expressed love in a way that was apparent. This up until recently. Hugging and kissing in my family were confined to birthdays and Christmas with anything outside of that being a rarity. It was only when I moved that I really started kissing my parents a little more regularly and even then it's met with some resistance in my psyche. It's not something my brain has really adjusted to, just yet.
Based on this then, how could I really be as loving as I am? My parents provided a very hostile environment for me as a child, while there weren't any major incidents of physical abuse, it was not the kind of place I enjoyed being in (there are some things you can't divulge online). Because of this, I preferred to spend most of my time at the home of my grandparents, I don't think they minded either. I loved my grandfather, he was a great man and I learnt a lot from him, by the way he lived. My grandmother, to her I am the youngest daughter and she is now my best friend. It was through these two firstly I learnt of love and affection. My grandfather's lap ALWAYS had space for me, even when all the other chairs were empty and even when I was pre-adolescent. My grandmother's bed always had space for me, even when there were other empty beds in the house.  They laid the foundation and the other families I interacted with closely compounded my ideologies of what love and affection are supposed to look like.

In 2012 my aunt and uncle celebrated their wedding anniversary and my uncle now never fails to remind me as to my main reason for still being single. He is my benchmark. Yet the reasons they think I want a man like him aren't really those that I have but they'll never really know. My uncle is a devoted husband and father. During the time I lived with my grandparents, my uncle lived downstairs with his family. I spent many days interacting with my uncle as he interacted with my three younger cousins. Granted he was big on discipline and none was spared, he showed love towards them and my aunt in a way I was never fortunate to get from my own parents. Every day was a special occasion. My uncle worked shifts and would at one point in time be gone for three day periods. His return would always be one of great excitement and he would never fail to disappoint, bringing dolls and flowers and seemingly insignificant things for my aunt and cousins. And while inexpensive in monetary worth, they were priceless because of the love they were bought in. Hugs, kisses and displays of affection were not spared either. And as they years passed the love and affection has not dwindled but has grown. I look now at my adult cousins playfully and lovingly romping with their father and know that when I get married, that's the kind of man I want for my children to call daddy. Sometimes I greet my uncle more lovingly than I do my own father, not for the lack of love, but for the strangeness attached to it.

Added to this experience is another which has shaped the way I view love. Running away seems to have been the one thing I have mastered from early. As we got older and relationships with cousins changed we started spending lots of time at the home of my grand aunt. Her son is two years younger than I am and he and I at one point in time were as thick as thieves. At their home, the words I love you echoed through the corridors and even to this day, sometimes used as a mamaguy tool, many times it's said with genuine meaning. I would look on as my second cousins would also frolic and romp with each other and with their parents. These were experiences that were very foreign to me as well, at home with my parents. In retrospect I also greet this aunt and uncle differently from the way I greet my own parents.

I remember reading somewhere something to the effect that we don't know what we have until we lose it but we also don't know what we were missing until it comes along. And that right there is the crux of it all. I may not have gotten the kind of love from my parents that others got from theirs. Maybe my parents just didn't know how to show their love back then in those ways, they try now, and I'd be lying if I say it's a little too much a little too late. It isn't, they are making an effort and I am pretty sure the baby our family is soon expecting will fare better in terms of the overflowing of love and affection he or she will receive than either my brother or myself did. But for me, I know what I want for myself. I want the world to know I love the people I love, whether it's platonic or beyond that. I want the people that I love to know that they mean the world to me and I'd most definitely be lost without them. Love isn't a noun, it's a verb, it's something that breathes new life into every bland day by it's actions. It's the actions in little things- a hug, a butterfly kiss, a light touch, a message in the middle of the day for no reason save and except to see if you are okay. These are the things that epitomize love to me.  The little things more often than not translate themselves into the bigger things, the bigger things done selflessly, done simply because of the joy that comes as a result of seeing the smile on the face of the one who you love.

Those are the days I dream of, those are the days when the firework display will be so blinding but only for the ones who are staring directly at the source of the explosion. Wait for it, it'll come.