A Love Story
I don’t usually write love stories. Today is the first day of spring and you know what “they” say. When spring comes around love is in the air. So today I will tell you a love story. My husband and I would have celebrated our 52nd anniversary on March 10 had he not passed away almost two years ago. So this is my love story. Mine, and most likely the same as many of yours.
I loved my husband. At first there was the passionate, hot, desirous love of youth. The obsession only teen aged girls know. The ardor of a girl becoming become a woman, in his arms and in his bed. My one and only, that fiery fervor would serve well to cleanse my heart of the ones who came before, at least for an enduring length of time if not forever. But as all young lovers know, that intensity does not last forever.
For those who are blessed that keenness transforms to sweetness. The sweetness of caring and consideration. Many times, it becomes the sweet love of a woman for the father of her children. The passionate love not entirely gone, but often smothered in the busyness of life as a family. It may burst forth now and then like a dormant volcano erupting after a period of silence. Unpredictable, surprising. Not always welcomed. Sometimes inconvenient, annoying, as interruptions in day-to-day routines can be. Most unexpected, it could result in an unplanned addition to the family!
From passion to sweetness, if you live long enough you may be blessed with another transformation. The passion and sweetness never gone completely but overwhelmed with comfortableness. Comfortableness does not have to be boring. The shared experiences of the years offer contentment and reassurance.
Comfortableness can offer security in times of desperation. Hard times like job losses, financial crises, deaths, heavy decisions, heartbreak. When you are comfortable you can cling to each other. Often no words are spoken, but the actions of holding onto each other offer solace. The love is there.
From passion to sweetness to comfortableness to an anchor in desperation, love may become a silent partner. Always there indeed. We both knew it was there even when it might appear to outsiders to have vanished. Even if all the forms had disappeared like a sinkhole swallowing vast chunks of our lives. As life was sucked from us by age and ailments it was still there. Steadfast.
It is still there yet. Somewhere out there in eternity. Manifest in the unceasing waves of the sea. Countless as the infinite number of grains of sand. Existing in the unfathomable universe. Or the ubiquitous “cloud” where all else seems to go. Of one thing I am sure. Though not live, passionate, sweet, comfortable, desperate, or silent, everlasting love is still there. And always will be.
Do you have a love story to tell? Is your love story anything like mine? Perhaps you have many love stories. I certainly have others to tell and just might do that some day! Maybe there is a love story coming my way I have yet to experience. Please share your thoughts in a comment below.