My Grandparents Really Love Each Other.

Love is a verb.

A different day, a different walk, the same love.

It might sound cliché, I know.

And it’s not that I’ve ever thought that they didn’t — I’d just never had definitive proof. Sure, they’ve been married for well over 50 years, but that amount of time can mean one of two things: a deep, enduring love… or just a comfortable routine.

In 2023, however, I saw something that made me know for sure.

I was on one of the beaches in Caloundra — sweaty, and sunburnt. My grandparents were expecting me later that week, along with my mum and aunty. In a bid to prepare myself for three nights crammed into a two-bedroom unit with family, however, I had decided to head up a few days early and stay nearby.

I had spent the afternoon playing paparazzi to the sunset, when I spotted a familiar red hat up on the esplanade. They were about 100 metres away from me, on their usual afternoon walk.

My grandparents. Wandering hand in hand; oblivious to the world rushing around them.

In a world where grand expressions of love are filtered onto a screen, or limited to 160 characters or less, this felt different. Quieter. Genuine. Not built on the shaky foundations of curated Instagram ‘candids’, but rather in tiny, unseen moments. Like this one.