Love Story

"So, I’m sitting here at Denny’s near midnight on a Friday. Trying to find some quiet thinking space in my own head. Searching for the answers that I don’t have yet and I'm scared of never finding. At the same time, clinging almost desperately to that hope…the hope that we’ll be together again. In running out of the apartment tonight, he was the only thought keeping me calm. And writing down our story may be the only thing that can keep me sane for the next few months. I’m not writing this so we can remember, like Allie in The Notebook. Because our story is imprinted on my soul for the rest of eternity. I’m not writing to inform the world, because him and me knowing is all that matters. And I’m definitely not writing because I’m a hopeless romantic with long lonely nights to fill. Do you know how many love stories have been written? Written, told, passed down for generations. From ancient Greece to Verona Italy and to Andrew and Rachel Jackson’s enduring romance. I’ve found there are more types of love stories than Jelly Belly beans. Stories where love conquers insurmountable odds, or where unlikely people complete each other. Some from the female perspective, the male perspective, or both. Christian, western, Victorian, or modern. Young love, old love, mysterious love. Single parents, widows, and divorcees, the rich, the poor, the average, and the famous. It’s all been written. Stores and libraries have romance sections full of these stories. And more likely than not, most are just that- stories. This isn’t a story. It’s real. At least as real as the bustling restaurant where I’m sitting penning this. I could choose to leave my story untold like so many romances around the world. But I have to write it down. A little faith is all I’m asking for and in return you will find love. Pure, simple, eternal love. I’m writing because this story defines me. And him. And to some extent, many of the people in it.
I’m a writer by nature, so it feels good to write it all out. But this story is so personal, so me, that I’m putting my heart onto this page instead of ink. This isn’t an autobiography or a documentary, so I’ll leave out details that I deem irrelevant. Not story-truth, just absolute pure truth.
Now, where to begin? I suppose I could start at the beginning of time, since I know it started then. But I’ll only record the middle part of our story that touches on standard measurable time. Otherwise we’d have an encyclopedia on our hands. I’ll start by saying that we all have a love story. Familiar or romantic. Long or short, joyful or full of sorrow, complicated or simple, or somewhere in between it all. Francois de La Rouchefoucould once said, “There is only one kind of love, but there are a thousand different versions.” Maybe we’re all just searching for our version. The one that makes us believe in magic, even after tragedy. The one that makes us want to become a better person if only to better love them. The one that makes the sun rise and is there to teach us how to deal with the night. But no matter what form love is for us, it can never be ordinary. Love itself is never ordinary. Maybe we are ordinary as individuals, or our lives are mundane, or it seems the plot of our life mirrors someone elses. But it is love that truly defines each of us, and since it can never be ordinary, neither are we. Every aspect of the way we love shapes and defines us. Some will tell you it’s clothes or money, or the collection of life experiences that give you an identity on some level. But in the end, no one writes on their headstone what designer they wore, or how much they were worth, or a list of all their awards and achievements. Nope. You see, “Beloved Wife and Mother” or “Loving Father and Friend” etc. Life is about love. It really is that simple. Sometimes in life we forget that. All we see are the bills every day in the mail, hear people screaming for our attention, and feel the weight of the world on every square inch of our bodies. I admit to that feeling as well. But never for long because there’s a part of us that always knows. That will forever remind us of love. Especially for me. I’m blessed with a love that transcends distance and time and physical boundaries. It infiltrates my dreams and lines every conscious action. A love that is found in every word I speak and present in each thought. A love that has been both a journey to find and yet I’ve had all along. It’s the reality of the journey of two souls, who are honestly the other half of each other. It’s a journey in every possible aspect: physical, emotional, mental, social, and spiritual. This isn’t a story about my life, including my love life. Rather it’s a complete love story with details from the rest of my life mixed in when important. It’s not about a career or my religion, though I’m a deeply spiritual person; it’s about a love that transcends everything else. I’ll never claim to be an expert on love however. I’ll not attempt to sit on T.V. shows and tell people how to love. But I know that I’ve allowed love to consume me, like a refiner’s fire, for better or worse. "

Just a little writing tidbit : )