Three little words, eight letters in all, innocuous alone, life-changing when uttered together.

I. A pronoun used to refer to oneself as speaker or writer.

Love. Used as a verb, it means to hold dear, to cherish, to feel a lover’s passion, devotion or tenderness for.

You. A pronoun referring to the one or ones being addressed.

These are not words to be used lightly, to be tossed off casually.

Saying these words to someone indicates deep feelings and a desire for a long-term commitment.

As we now approach Valentine’s Day, some business owners are urging us to “Say I love you with ...” and you can fill in the blank — candy, flowers, jewelry, lingerie, a romantic getaway, dinner for two and others.

With all due respect to those who trade in such items, nothing says I love you like simply looking someone in the eyes and saying “I love you.”

It’s easy to say those words to members of your family, children, parents, brothers, sisters and the like. It’s comfortable, the words tumbling out easily like the refrain of an old, familiar song.

But saying those words to someone else, that’s another matter altogether.

You’ve been dating awhile. It’s been fun. You’ve laughed at each other’s jokes, shared some good times, gone to dinner, movies, perhaps even danced a bit. Then suddenly the other person begins popping into your head at the oddest times, prompting you to smile to yourself, regardless of whether or not you are in a situation that calls for smiling.

You begin thinking about how nice it would be to spend more time with that person.

Then, one day, you discover that you can’t imagine not being with that person, can’t fathom the possibility of being cast adrift once again in the sea of singlehood.

That’s when you know it is time to say those three little words. But the prospect strikes terror in your heart. What if you are wrong? What if this is not love, but mere infatuation? No, you assure yourself, this is it, this is real.

You feel better, briefly, until the terror returns, this time the abject fear of rejection. To say those words, out loud, to this person, you realize, opens you up to ridicule and/or having your heart shredded like an old tax return.

So you put it off. You let flowers, candy, et al, do your talking for you. You tiptoe to the edge of that cliff from time to time, but each time you lose the nerve to jump.

Eventually, you can’t get around it. You have got to say something, you have to know, one way or another.

One day you say the words, “I love you.” And your heart stops as you watch the other person’s eyes, to see whether or not they widen in a moment of panic, or a moment of warmth. You watch their mouth for the mere hint of a grimace or the birth of a broad grin. And you wait for what seems like hours but is, in truth, fractions of a second, for them to respond.

And you find yourself praying as you have never prayed, hoping as you have never hoped, wanting as you have never wanted.

And in that moment, two lives are altered. Either answer will result in a sea change in your relationship. A negative or lukewarm response, perhaps followed by the words, “Maybe we should just be friends,” means you have been rejected, pure and simple. That pain in your chest, incidentally, is your heart being torn into tiny shreds.

But if the reply is something along the lines of “I love you, too,” the world stops, your vision narrows and the only sound you hear is the pounding of your heart.

Oh, and your knees also get weak, your hands shake and your stomach starts doing flip-flops.

It’s a little like the stomach flu, except you don’t have to keep running to the bathroom.

Saying those words and hearing them in return changes the way you look at the world. You start using the word “we” and “us” a whole lot more often than “I” and “me.” You begin thinking of yourself as half of a whole, rather than a stand-alone entity.

Those three words, when you send them out and they are returned, also change the way you look at yourself. When you realize someone else loves you, another human being not related to you by blood and tradition, you begin thinking you might not be so bad after all.

After you say those words once, it is imperative that you say them frequently, several times a day, preferably.

That means if the Almighty smiles on your relationship, you will say those words thousands of times through the course of the rest of your life.

One day you’ll stand next to a hospital bed as the life of the other half of your whole slowly ebbs away.

And you will say those three little words, the sweetest words any human being can ever hear, for the very last time.

Less than a week ago, 87-year-old Marjorie Landis died in a Pennsylvania nursing home. As she succumbed to a long illness, her husband said, “It’s OK. I love you. We had many good years together. I will see you real soon.”

Very soon, as it turned out. Less than 90 minutes later, James Landis, 89, died of a heart attack.

They had known each other for 65 years.

That is a lot of “I love you.”

Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, but if you mean it, don’t stop saying it.



Mullin is senior writer of the News & Eagle. Email him at jmullin@enidnews.com.