It’s that day … Valentine’s Day.
The day of love, unspoken expectations, and loneliness … what a great conundrum of experiences!
While I understand that this day is one which some avoid, love is something which we should celebrate … but not just one day each year.
Here’s a few of my mature, though not necessarily Earth-shattering, thoughts of love:
My most favourite experience, which I only share with my hubby, is weekend morning coffee, each in our own chairs, toes periodically touching, with books and computers around us, dog at our feet, few words spoken … priceless. Neither of us really drink coffee other than at this time of day, but it is the thing that, on the day one of us awakens without the other in our life, we will mourn this loss greatly, for it is ours.
Now, of course, my hubby and I are never angry with each … and if you believe that, have I got a swamp to sell you! We are pretty passionate individuals, and when we are angry with each other, I’ll be the first to admit that my anger can make me feel like I am a living, ticking time bomb. But, we do still care for each other … hubby still looks after my vehicle, I still make dinner. This act of caring, in the midst of anger, is the foundation of self-sacrifice. Even though we may be angry and not like each other, we still care for, and love each other.
When you first meet a soft touch, or even making eye contact can be the most thrilling of experiences. What we often forget is that those cheap thrills don’t have to be relegated to the past, and they can even be more delightful years later, when we frequently forget to simply admire, to softly touch or kiss in such common ways.
Want to feel like a young couple again? Laugh over the stupid things you have done together. That old man/woman who you live with is the same person who you have a shared history of a multitude of ridiculous memories. Drag them out, like people in the past brought out the photo albums. Heck drag out the photo albums … they might be the best spark to remember your shared silliness. There is a little shack cabin, on a twisty road in Vermont, that can make us smile at each other knowingly, for we have a memory that only each other knows.
All of us who have done life with another have a shared history. We know things about our other that make us beautiful, or ugly. But, guess what? We both have flaws, skeletons in our closets, make bad smells, and have obsessive compulsive behaviours (of course mine aren’t diagnosable, like someone … just joking).
I think that, just maybe, Bob Marley said it best:
itsawonderfilledlife 