Aimer

aimer. (v.):    1. to like.
                     2. to love.

This French verb always left me a little frazzled.  I took 3 French classes in high school and I could never figure out why the language didn't allow for any discrepancy between the two (in my opinion) drastically different actions.

I love that about English.

You can like something.

You can love something.

A friend of mine gave me a bit of insight into the need for this distinction years ago.  We stopped by her house before going to a rehearsal so she could pick up some things.  She briefly introduced me to her mom, grabbed the stuff and we left.

On our way out the door, she hollered:

"Bye mom, I like you!"

An echoed response came down the hall,

"I like you, too!"

Confused, I inquired on our way to the car, "... Like?"

Smiling to herself, she explained.



"Everybody loves their family," she said; that's a given. "You don't always like them."



My friend is so awesome.  I've looked up to her for a long time, she's an inspiration as a woman of faith, as a writer, and just as a genuinely good person who always leaves you feeling better than you were before.  She has kept that trademark candid honesty, contagious optimism, and love of life - as evidenced on her own blog.  Check it out!

True, our loved ones can drive us crazy sometimes.  We don't always like what they do, but we always love them.  I spent most of my childhood loving but not necessarily liking one of my brothers (we've since become really good friends).  It's important to celebrate and savor those moments when we don't just feel that obligatory familial bond, that genetic tie to our loved ones, but also those instances when we genuinely like them.  We don't just put up with them because they're blood; we can really enjoy their company and seek it out.




How often do you like the people you love? 


And for that matter, when was the last time you were likable?


S