Love is not permanent; it’s constantly changing and evolving and twisting and turning. Like the great ouroboros, it thrives and eats itself and blooms again. Over and over and over again.

Every day, you have to wake up and make the choice to love the people you love. It is not a constant, swelling feeling that pushes you over the edge into a lake of roses and fine wine; it is raw, unfiltered, vulnerable—and completely fragile. It roots in the most unlikely of places, but only blooms in well-lit homes with unconditional warmth and is accountable to water and to be watered. It cannot survive neglect; it will not thrive with overindulgence; it will die in the cold. They say talking to plants cause them to live longer and the same can be said for love: speak to it, understand it, communicate with it and respect it. Place it in sunlight.

Understand that every day you are relearning your partner—growing, adapting, and building a life together—and know that though petals will fall, new ones will grow, just a little different than before. We go through hundreds of versions of ourselves in our lives. You will not be loving the same person from day zero to day 2,403. So, elevate love: repot it in something bigger, place it in a brighter room, and add soil to what still works. And water it again.

Do not forget to water your own love, for your roots can collapse homes or provide shelter; be gentle with them, talk to them, trim off the diseased parts. And on days where there is no sun or warmth, take extra care of it. Relearn it, nurture it, but most of all, choose it.