"My parents have been married for over 30 years and I have been raised in their love. My mother told me my father used to send her a handwritten love letter every day when they were young in Somalia and sometimes twice a day when he missed her something bad. Love is having babies and fleeing a country in war together. It is being scared and being brave anyway. It is missing each other and always being friends. My parent’s love taught me that you need more than beautiful words for love to survive. Love is hard work, it is a commitment every day, it is doing what is necessary to make sure the other person is ok. My father somehow took care of a family of 12+ on a taxi cab driver’s salary and studied by a lamp’s light every night. My mother raised 10 children in a country hostile to their very existence with nothing but pure wit and strength. So I learned early on that love must manifest in actions. My favorite memory of them is how my mother would wait to eat until my father came home every day and them sitting together just laughing, talking, and loving. One time, my father took my mother’s hand and looked at us sitting around the table and told us, ‘you know, I love this woman. She is my best friend.’ And the way my mother still looks at my father, I know he’s not the only one who feels that way."