06 October 2010
05 October 2010
...
He asked me years ago to define the word "Love." He asked many, in fact. It was an assignment that I wouldn't hand in on time, I honestly don't think I even handed it in that same semester. But I do remember writing it. I remember mulling over and over about it, trying to come up with the perfect thing to say, the 'nail on the head' of writing and defining. And then, back then, way back then, I thought I got it. I remember writing something to the extent of "Love is the last money left in your bank account used to buy your significant other a present, something to make them happy, to see their eyes light up." To me then, back then, way back then, love was about extremes. The highest highs and lowest lows. Winter and Summer. Black and white.
Years gone by, loves gone by. Love on so many different levels and so many different extremes. But thats what it takes, doesn't it? Years. Extremes. Experience. I thought about the specific day he asked us to define that word, that little "L" word, that four letter word with so much meaning and honesty. Proustian moments somehow find their way to connect me to him and that classroom constantly, a smell, a taste, a sound, a sight, and I'm right back there. Today it was the distant sky. The same dark but harmless sky as the day he had assigned the assignment. Little did I know that 5 years later I would begin to reevaluate my answer.
Now, today, here, right here love is different. Its no longer an extreme, an up or a down. Its not the "POP" at the highest point of the firework, nor is it the "BANG" of the bullet leaving the guns barrel. Its the quiet of the before and after. Love is what happens when nothing at all happens. The peaceful altruistic moments we have for one another without even realizing we did so. Love is when we don't think, but just do.
We were walking around the neighborhood [a commonplace for us] I was wearing your sweatshirt. Oversized just enough to keep me perfectly warm in this cool Fall weather. I had pushed up the sleeves, about halfway up my forearm, probably so I could talk freely with my hands as I always do. Mid-conversation you leaned over and pulled the sleeves down past my hands then rolled each one up so that the edge of the sweatshirt just reached my wrist. We never stopped walking, we never stopped talking, I never said "thank you," I never asked "why." I didn't need to. I didn't even realize it occurred until much later. I'll never know exactly why you did what you did, Im not even sure if you do. My guess is that somewhere in your head, somewhere in between our playful conversation, and the gorgeous weather of this Fall season, you probably thought I was cold, or uncomfortable, and without thought or words or interruption you did what you did. That's love.
If he were to ask me today, at this very moment, to define that little word I would only have one thing to say. One short, precise answer, "Love is an ellipsis."
Years gone by, loves gone by. Love on so many different levels and so many different extremes. But thats what it takes, doesn't it? Years. Extremes. Experience. I thought about the specific day he asked us to define that word, that little "L" word, that four letter word with so much meaning and honesty. Proustian moments somehow find their way to connect me to him and that classroom constantly, a smell, a taste, a sound, a sight, and I'm right back there. Today it was the distant sky. The same dark but harmless sky as the day he had assigned the assignment. Little did I know that 5 years later I would begin to reevaluate my answer.
Now, today, here, right here love is different. Its no longer an extreme, an up or a down. Its not the "POP" at the highest point of the firework, nor is it the "BANG" of the bullet leaving the guns barrel. Its the quiet of the before and after. Love is what happens when nothing at all happens. The peaceful altruistic moments we have for one another without even realizing we did so. Love is when we don't think, but just do.
We were walking around the neighborhood [a commonplace for us] I was wearing your sweatshirt. Oversized just enough to keep me perfectly warm in this cool Fall weather. I had pushed up the sleeves, about halfway up my forearm, probably so I could talk freely with my hands as I always do. Mid-conversation you leaned over and pulled the sleeves down past my hands then rolled each one up so that the edge of the sweatshirt just reached my wrist. We never stopped walking, we never stopped talking, I never said "thank you," I never asked "why." I didn't need to. I didn't even realize it occurred until much later. I'll never know exactly why you did what you did, Im not even sure if you do. My guess is that somewhere in your head, somewhere in between our playful conversation, and the gorgeous weather of this Fall season, you probably thought I was cold, or uncomfortable, and without thought or words or interruption you did what you did. That's love.
If he were to ask me today, at this very moment, to define that little word I would only have one thing to say. One short, precise answer, "Love is an ellipsis."
04 October 2010
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