What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

Devna Panda

In his collection of short stories, “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”, Raymond Carver writes about this idea in his titular short story. After reading this story for the first time, this phrase has been a rent-free inhabitant of my mind. What does it mean to love one? another? Is this emotion objective or do we all experience it differently? Seeing as we can’t flit in and out of each other’s minds and hearts, we may never know. 

My mother boiled the rice in condensed milk, stirring it with a ladle every few minutes to ensure the rice didn’t curdle at the bottom of the pot. My grandpa sat with me when I was 10, explaining what the unit of man-hours meant as I grew increasingly exasperated.

My classmate from middle school remembered my birthday each year, even if that was one of the only days of the year during which we talked. My boyfriend went to three different florists to find my favorite flower, Canterbury bell flowers, after I mentioned it offhand once.

My best friend timed her birthday wish to me so that I received it at midnight in Italy when I happened to be out of town for my birthday one year. My sister wrote me a letter for each month of my freshman year as a sort of guidepost. Despite never having celebrated Christmas growing up himself, my dad would ask me what I wanted for Christmas as a kid. One year, when I changed my mind at the last minute, he went to the store on Christmas Eve, and I ended up receiving two presents. 

This is what I talk about when I talk about love.