I remember as a teen girl I had a special someone. On occasion he would come to my window. I would hear rocks plink off the glass and I would be so excited to see him. We would sit on my stoop and talk for as long as we could until the hour was late and we were exhausted. He had been in and out of trouble and we didn't get to see eachother often so these moments were cherished. Eventually, he was caught and I waited for him while he spent some time getting straightened out. I adored his family and remember them, and him fondly. Mostly, I suspect, from the romantic gesture of wanting to see me so badly he took great risks and his unabashed willingness to tell me he much he loved me a million times.
He crosses my mind once in a while. I always wondered if I crossed his. We crossed paths twice in my young adult life, his eyes still shone like emeralds and I could see the boy I loved dearly in them.
A few years later I stumbled upon a handsome young man with wire rimmed glasses and a fascinating story at a pool tournament I was watching. I assumed he was my age or older due to th venue. This was not the case but the age was not really an issue as he was just slightly younger than I was. I, however, was a young mother in the throngs of ending a dangerous and abusive relationship. This young man spent many nights comforting me, giving me strength and helping me at the drop of a hat. He was strong, and a fighter. He would not back down from a fight if provoked. My suffering was intolerable to him. His dark eyes and wavy hair have him a softness that complimented his quiet demeanor. He would often drop by unannounced and throw pebbles at my window (as not to wake my young daughter) or wrap lightly on my door. These late night visits were my favorite as he would wrap me in his arms and talk softly about anything and everything. We often sat on my balcony and watch the stars, always searching for Orion. He was like the guardian of our affections. He only told me once that he loved me, the day he left to move across the world, but I knew it in my soul.
Both of these "loves" crossed my path many times over the years, typically following a deep feeling they were around. I would then get a phone call, visit or news of their struggles. Sometimes these were 6th senses sometimes dreams.
Last night one of them came to me in my dream. I've lost track of him over the last few years, and after one very painful drink where I sought closure; I asked when he stopped loving me, he replied with "never." It shakes me to this day.
What happened to the simplicity of love? You meet someone, you connect, you fall and so do they. No games, nonalterier motives. Just pure unadulterated drive to be near eachother no matter the constraints.
It isn't about sex, or even the future. It's the thought that if you lost them part of you would leave with them. That for some reason part of you is with them for the rest of your life. There was no betrayal, no lies, just circumstances that pulled us apart. ( they may feel grossly different, but it is my story and I see it as a beautiful and simple memory of genuine affection.)
As I have aged, relationships have changed. It is rarely about absolute intoxication and adoration of your lover. It has become a business transaction. What can you and I provide eachother.
I rarely see true acts of romance. Of spending time holding one another to just feel their heart against yours. To kiss, over and over, just to taste the lips that you love. Time, circumstance, repercussions be damned.
When did we stop taking risks for love. When did love become a taboo word or a sign of weakness. I challenge this! Love is a sign of bravery. You bring forth the vulnerability for that person to destroy your world. They very well may! But they may throw you little pebbles of love and risk it all just to be in your presence.
Oh to have the adoration of a love that would risk it all! Our culture teaches us to be the last to say I love you, to hide our feelings, to be guarded and not take emotional risks. It says that sadness is not an acceptable feeling. I refuse to accept this. A broken heart, oh so painful, shows you loved, freely and openly and gave a piece of you to someone, even if they didn't give you a piece back.
My heart is not smoothe and mine. It is a mosaic, made of the pieces those who loved me have risked pain to give me in return for mine.
I refuse to stop throwing pebbles or giving pieces of me. May we all have beautiful mosaics in our chests that beat with a chorus of the loves of those who have visited our lives.
Sometimes we ache for the pieces given as we feel part of us is missing when the person leaves with it. That pain is alright, even though it is almost crippling. Slowly ithe mosaic will heal and there will be a masterpiece made from your choice to love! Who doesn't love beauty?! I know I do.
Sometimes a pebble comes in a smile, a call, email or deep look, embrace, or kiss on the forehead. Stop hiding! Throw your pebbles, give your "I love you" flight! Fight for the love inside you. Build your mosaic!
So, today I muse of the beautiful mosaic my heart is becoming. Maybe you see it, maybe you don't. I want to see it in you, beloveds.
And if you are my pebble throwers and you read this, thank you.
