We love people as a whole, not for this or that; love is not black or white. It is all shades of gray and all colors of the spectrum, visible and invisible. We love the disparate parts that go into making up the loved one: that special way they wink at us to show us only they understand, or that tight hug when there are no words for the inconceivable pain. We love them when they’re naughty and make us chuckle, and when they’re naughty and make us angry. We love them when they’re happy and good, but also when they’re sad and bad. Love is a long, winding cobblestone road we pave together, in reciprocity, in sharing, over time; love is not consumable, it is made to last. We hold hands and go forward carving out a path in concert, sometimes with syncopated rhythms, sometimes totally out of sync, straying off course often. Our hands separate but always find their way back to each other. It is complicity; it does not require words. It is long term, not a one-night stand. We may not speak to or see each other for countless years, but that’s metaphorical in the end. Once you’ve loved someone, you are changed, and so are they. You are part of each other. Love is made up of all these things, wrapped tightly in a gift package we put on our shelf of “blessings given and received”.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Sep 2014 21:31:35 +0000
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