As a child, I imagined love as something distant and inconcrete. Love was unobtainable, meant for those who didn’t spend every day grabbing at success—not someone who had to keep pushing and pushing themselves to be better, work harder, to reach further past someone else’s shadow to be illuminated by their own halo. It was just something unrealistic, too precious to be held by me.

 

When rereading my favorite childhood book, I began to understand how my perspective changed. The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, written by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo, chronicles the journey of a china rabbit called Edward Tulane, a cherished toy that grows from a selfish, shallow character that takes Abilene’s love for granted to a rabbit who understands the cost of love and giving yourself up for someone else’s happiness. 

 

Lost on the run, experiencing a multitude of lives, Edward Tulane learns. From an elderly couple whose cruel child crushes Edward’s dreams to a hobo named Bull that lives on the outskirts and has no true home to a sickly child called Sarah Ruth who is able to fly and rise above her abusive father and chances of death just for a moment, Edward loves in all its entirety. 

 

Edward comments, “‘Don’t talk to me about love,’ […] ‘I have known love.’” And yes, he has. His travels encapsulate the feeling of love, raw in a kind of intimacy that is most powerful when laid bare. Inside his thoughts, we repeat. Love and learning and hurt and loss and loving again, opening yourself up for disappointment in the hope that things will change.

 

Through wondering whether being loved in the past can alter loneliness in the present, what it feels like to be so high above the world that you become whole, and opening my heart up to change and vulnerability once again, I moved past the movies that showed me the heartbreaking ideal of love. Next, I thought about what the book taught me—how love could mean so much in everyday moments and how life-changing it feels like to be known. Just like how familial love inspires you to take on anything, anything fleeting will leave its mark on you and transform you as a person—opening yourself up to the horrifying reality of being seen, and thus, learning to love yourself.

 

Written by Kayly Nguyen.

Edited by Srisha Nannapaneni