Fickle love

Her hand was her story and entwined with mine it was ours. And at 24 that hand still eludes me.

Romantic love has a way of making it into stories. Love can be acted out by the players in the Queen’s Court. Love can be destroyed by the sweat of the slaves who built the Taj Mahal. Love thrives in the hearts of a revolutionary hiding from the guards in a darkened alley. Love dances by the light of a flickering candle and a frayed book- narrating a story of freedom, equality and justice. Love dies on a battlefield with the last breath of every soldier. And love is reborn with the first cry of every child.

I implore you to not belittle this emotion with mindless gifts and empty promises. Don’t singe the fabric of this treasure shared by all that grows and breathes with your petty bickering. Don’t confine it to a day of shallow celebration.

If  you don’t realise that love is more than a ring at the bottom of a champagne glass. If you can’t fathom the idea of love existing in multitudes. If you can not understand why forced monogamy may not be what true love is. If you chose to believe love is found in sameness and that it is possible to fall out of love. It is you who  will never find it.

Because love doesn’t have to be forever to be. A gesture, a look, a word, a song, a dance can make the heart take flight. Love doesn’t glitter it shines-through the eyes of those who can feel it. It comes in many hues, like seeing light through a kaleidoscope. Love cannot be chained and it is not the beginning or the end. It might find you at a crossroads and it may not walk the path you chose to take.

Love may be a part of your story if you find it, but it is never the entirety of it. Our stories are not measured by the promise of forever but by the life we live and world we leave behind.

 

 

 

 

To the girl who believes in happy endings

Dear little me,

I wish I got this letter growing up, I wish time travel existed. You are only fifteen, and I may be only twenty three but I have so much to say.

You dream of that stranger on a white horse and imagine you are being held captive in your home. That wistful look is one of innocence and ignorance. You don’t know what a heartbreak is. You have not spent hours, days even weeks trying to shut out the world. You have never experienced the free fall when that hand holding yours just disappears.

Turrets and rainbows turn into faded pictures and monsters in your closet. You think after half a dozen not-so-happy-endings you would be numb to happiness or pain. But that doesn’t happen. You meet the seventh prince (they dress in tee shirts and don’t call you darling), and your heart skips a beat and you blush like you did when your crush talked to you during recess. It truly is the you could have danced all night and still have begged for more kind of a feeling. Until the day it isn’t.

But scaring you into a life of loneliness is not what I want. There may be no happy ending but there is happiness. To know what it feels like when he reads the owl and the pussycat under that old elm tree. To know how the thought of him smiling makes you feel loved even though he is miles away. To have that one picture where he is not looking at the camera but at you and his eyes say more than words ever will. To forever cherish that night he cooked dinner (yes, rocks taste better) and you danced….your shadows intertwined in the candlelight. To have that one song that reminds you all at once about how he made you feel. And yes the fights hurling the first thing you find at him over losing a game of scrabble or is-that-lipstick-on-your-collar? Making up after the fights because it really was just tomato sauce(yes the tests confirmed it, not a false negative, yes I am sure).

Sometimes it will not be about love. You will make choices that end in a 7 AM taxi ride (messy hair and heels in your hand) or an empty bed and an almost illegible note. They may be stupid decisions (like the last whiskey shot) but you get to decide if they are right or wrong.

There will be a time when love will take a backseat. You will want to change the world, to grow wings and fly. Don’t dismiss that person who made you laugh. Don’t give up on someone who can hold his end of the conversation. Yes it will end and yes it will hurt. But if you do, someday you will look back you will regret letting him go without a fight. Because love that doesn’t last is just as true as the love that does.

I will not tell you to love yourself because what’s not to love?!

So promise me you will never give up. He will never be what you expected, maybe you meet six guys before you meet him maybe sixty. Maybe you meet someone else after you meet him and maybe he turns out to be Harry to your Sally. Maybe you meet him in high school and he is your prom date or maybe when you are in an old age home half demented and losing bladder control. Just promise me you will never give up on love.

Your so-very-messed-up-23-year-old-self

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