The Art of Noticing Each Other Again

Last night, after one of those slow, affectionate nights together, my husband and I ended up talking. The kind of late-night talk that feels honest and easy. He said something that stayed with me. “You know, when our kids still a little…,” he told me, “I rarely saw you the way I used to, as the woman I fell in love with. It’s not that I stopped loving you. I just got busy loving you differently.”

Wait, what does it mean? Later, he explained, he was focused on being a good provider, a reliable husband, a responsible father. His love turned into action: work, protection, stability. And because of that, he stopped looking at me the way he used to. Not out of neglect, but because in his mind, I was already his. We were building a life, not chasing a spark.

Thank God we never had big problems because of that. Maybe it’s our commitment, or maybe we were just too busy surviving those early years. Either way, it makes me smile now, how serious life felt back then.” Still, I can see now how easily love can go quiet when couples forget to look up from their duties.

Now that we’re more settled, the kids are growing, life is calmer, and he’s started seeing me again. He compliments me often now. Sometimes, out of nowhere, he’ll say, “You’re so beautiful,” *Blushing*. It still catches me off guard. And honestly? I had forgotten that part of me, too. When no one looks at you that way for a long time, you forget how to see yourself that way.

That conversation reminded me how easily love can hide behind responsibility. We start out like Jim and Pam from The Office; full of spark and inside jokes, and then one day, life turns into laundry, bills, and bedtime routines. Blahhh, boring!
We stop seeing each other and start managing together.

The truth is, love doesn’t disappear; it transforms, and it needs our attention to stay alive. It becomes teamwork, shared goals, and survival. But when it hides there too long, we risk forgetting the warmth that started it all.

And sometimes this question hit us hard silently: Where did the sparks and the butterflies go?

Well, perhaps it’s still there and never left. Maybe they just got buried under schedules, to-do lists, and late-night exhaustion. Asking us to find them again by isn’t something grand, just by the small act of noticing each other once again.

Yesterday, one of my best friends told me she feels unseen by her husband. It’s not that he stopped loving her, but their conversations now run dry. Different tones, different directions. They talk, but don’t connect. And I could hear the sadness in her voice. The kind that doesn’t come from fights, but from silence.

Her story hit me hard. Listening to her made me realize how easily distance grows. Not from big arguments, but from small neglects. Being “unseen” doesn’t always mean being unloved; sometimes it just means both people are tired. Tired of surviving. Tired of giving without being noticed. Tired of living side by side, instead of face to face.

And that’s why the small things matter, the everyday ones that keep love visible. Because when life gets heavy, love needs to stay light enough to be noticed.

Marc Reklau once wrote, “The little things you do every day define the quality of your life.” And that’s true for marriage, too. Love doesn’t stay alive through anniversaries or grand gestures. It stays alive through daily awareness. Through eye contact. Through small kindness. Through the effort to say, “I still see you.”

Dale Carnegie said it decades ago: “The deepest principle in human nature is the craving to be appreciated.” Marc reminds us that love is built through daily actions; Dale reminds us why those actions matter, because everyone longs to feel appreciated. When we stop appreciating, connection fades. When we start seeing and valuing each other again, everything feels lighter, familiar, yet new.

It’s comforting to know that love can return simply by being seen again, but seeing takes practice. And maybe that’s what it really means to keep love alive: not by adding more, but by paying better attention. How? By being deliberate in the smallest ways:

• Sit across from each other at dinner, not always side by side.
  Facing each other makes space for attention. My husband once said he likes it because he can really see me, read my face, catch my expressions, and look at me with affection. Across the table doesn’t mean distance; it means focus. It turns an ordinary meal into a quiet kind of conversation that doesn’t even need many words.
• Put the phone face down when they talk.
  It’s a small act, but it says, I’m here with you. In a world where attention is currency, this simple gesture is one of the most powerful ways to say “you matter.”
• Hold eye contact for a few seconds longer.
  Long enough to soften the edges of the day. Sometimes, the silence between two people who truly see each other says more than words ever could.
• Touch when you pass in the hallway.
  A hand on the shoulder, a brush of fingers, a hug in the middle of chores. The kind of gestures that would look sweet in a reel, but feel even better in real life. Touch keeps love grounded in the present; it doesn’t need a perfect moment.
• Ask questions that start with “How are you, really?”
  That one extra word opens the door a little wider. It turns small talk into connection, and routine check-ins into real listening.
• Compliment the little things, not just the looks, but the effort.
  Notice the attempts, not just the outcomes: the small repairs, the patience, the things done quietly for the family. Admiration keeps respect alive.
• End the day with presence, not just sleep.
  It doesn’t have to be long — a few minutes of shared stillness, laughter, or prayer. Ending the day together, not just side by side, closes the loop that busyness tries to pull apart.

Each of these gestures is small on its own, but together they form a language. One that says, I see you. I’m still here. You still matter.

That’s what this season of marriage feels like to me now. Not falling in love again, but remembering to look again. To admire again. To appreciate the same person, with new eyes.

Because in the end, a good life isn’t built on grand happiness, but on small, steady awareness. Love, like every other part of a good life, doesn’t stay alive by itself; it stays alive because we keep noticing. We pay attention, we choose kindness, we practice gratitude, and through those tiny choices, connection becomes our daily rhythm.

“Because being seen always matters. It’s how love breathes.”

Love,

Kirana