Falling in Love with You

Love at first sight is only realizing an imagination that has always haunted us. –William Hazlitt

I found a quaint little pocket book a while back. I had taken some books in for trade at McKay’s Used Books and had gotten some credit. I took my kids in to get them some books with that credit, and had hoped to find some music for myself. Not having any luck with music, I was standing in line with many books for my kids when I saw on a shelf near the counter a little book titled Falling in Love with You. It was a collection of quotes from well known people about this wonderful subject of falling in love. From the early stages of first love, into the bliss of marriage and the love shared in bed, to the troubles that come with love, all the way to the secrets of lasting love, this little book covered it all. I had to have it.

I keep this book on the nightstand next to my bed and read a few pages every night. It isn’t a big book, so you would think that I would be finished with it by now. I am nearly done, but I am taking my time with it, re-reading each quote and trying to relate it to my own life. Reading the quotes of first love…I remembered the time that I fell in love for the first time. I knew what was happening. I had hoped for something like that for my entire life. I had a single experience with someone in high school, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of falling in love, falling into true love. Although I am a believer in “love at first sight”, this wasn’t the case in my first love. True, I told myself that this woman was one that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, even so, it took a little time for the “falling into love” to happen. But that first true love is gone. I told her and myself that I would love her till the day I died, and that is true. But being in love with her? No. That is gone.

What is first love worth, except to prepare for the second? What does second love bring? Only regret for the first. – John Hay

Sure, I regret losing my first love. It was something that I never thought would happen. The loss of love, not the regret, that is. The regret of losing love is there. I do regret that we let things get to the point that she lost her love for me. I never lost it for her. It isn’t the same love, though. The love that I have now is almost at the level of a platonic love, like the love that you have for a good friend. And even though I regret losing her love, I don’t regret falling in love. For as the above quote says, first love prepares you for second loves and teaches you what not to do in all other loves.

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know when it has begun. – William W. Longfellow

Butterflies in the stomach; longing to be together with your object of affection; feeling incomplete when apart; the feeling of pure joy when together. I know these feelings. To me, they signify that something special is happening. I “love” love. I love that feeling of being close to someone, so close that you can read them. The closeness is a melding of souls so tightly woven together that you can read them in an instant. You can tell just with a look what kind of mood they are in. You are hurt when they are in pain, feel elation when they are happy, morose when they are sad. It is almost a clairvoyant feeling, this closeness. But it is not so easy to tell if they are as in love with you as you are with them. This can be hidden behind eyes so open and a heart so loving. In that case, it should be obvious, but sometimes it isn’t. I know my feelings, but I like to be told of the love had for me. Everyone should love to be told that someone loves them. It feels so good.

The loss of love is a terrible thing. They lie who say that death is worse. – Countee Cullen

Losing love hurts. It is a pain that is hidden in your heart but is visible in your countenance; it shows on your face, in your actions, shows through your eyes, flowing from your soul. This pain is a great wound upon your soul leaving scars unseen. This hidden pain takes longer to heal than any visible wound. A Persian quote says that “A broken hand works, but not a broken heart”. My heart still hurts. It still hurts from the loss of a true love, but it also hurts from the loss of other relationships that have happened since the great pain was inflicted upon it. I don’t protect my heart very well. I know I said I was going to build a fence around it to protect it from getting hurt, but that fence never got finished. I put too much of my heart into things that I do, relationships included. This is a dangerous thing, because it sets me up for pain when things go wrong. I should know better, but I do it anyway. Do you know why? Because to me, the ultimate joy of falling in love and staying in love is so great, is so desirable, is what I long to do that I look at every new prospect in such a way as to prepare myself for love. Is it going to happen this time? Is this the one? And so with great anticipation comes a great fall…and with that fall comes a time of darkness. In that time of darkness, the search continues for the light, the light that warms the heart and comforts the soul. I heard a quote the other night that shows me a path to that light out of the darkness. I was watching a PBS special about Hanukkah. No, I’m not Jewish, but with a set of rabbit ear antennas (no, not even rabbit ears…more like a rabbit with an ear cut off…just one antenna), PBS was the only channel strong enough to come in with an antenna out here in the sticks (and I hadn’t had TV in so long, I was desperate for some entertainment). A rabbi was saying that our eyes have two parts: a dark and a light part, and the only part that we use to see the light is through the dark part. It hit me right then that the only way to see a way to happiness in love and in life was to look through the dark parts, to get past the hurts of love and the hardships of life by peering through the darkness to where even the dimmest of lights should be the brightest focal point. After all, even the light from a small candle can be seen from afar in complete darkness.

True love is eternal, infinite and always like itself. It is equal and pure, without violent demonstrations. It is seen with white hairs and is always young at heart. – Balzac

True love is meant to last a lifetime and beyond. It is something so great, so soul satisfying, so completing, that time has no hold on it. It is something to be desired and cherished, so much in fact, that all the hurts and disappointments endured in the search for it can’t diminish the ultimate joy and lasting exhilaration that comes when it is finally found and kept. It is worth it. I know true love is out there. It has touched me before, it is part of me; I have felt it, and I do feel it now. I have faith and do believe in everlasting love. I believe that there is such a thing as love at first sight. I believe that with love comes pain and misunderstandings, but also, that love heals all wounds. I believe that love needs daily nourishment to grow and stay strong, whereas hate needs no nourishment; it only needs provoking to show its might. I believe…in love.

How shall I do to love? Believe.
How shall I do to believe? Love. – Robert Leighton

To Have and to Hold

December 19, 2008

Rowan,

I did something today that I thought I would never do. I held you. I held you while you slept, little eyes tightly shut, your lips doing a little sucking motion every now and then, fingers curled in tiny fists, sometimes at your mouth, other times just by the sides of your head. A little hiccup or whimper would escape you here and there, the whimpers sounding like squeaks from a mouse, the hiccups barely noticeable. I held you while you were awake, dark blue eyes staring intently at this odd fellow with a face full of fuzzy hair, facial features strangely familiar but still those of a stranger. I held you while holding a bottle of formula in your ever so eager and willing mouth, listening to the sucking sounds you made and to the escaping air bubbling in the bottle. It must have been heaven for you; your eyes starting rolling in your head and eyelids held closed, but open enough that you seemed to be taking a peek at the holder of the bottle of joy. I held you while your mother took a break and went to town to get things needed for you and her. She needs times like this. She loves you so very much, but still…she needs to get away every once in a while.

I never thought I would see you. I knew I would see you in pictures or videos that your momma will certainly fill up album after album and put online for all those who love you to see. I knew that. What I didn’t know was that I would be able to see you face to face, to search for facial features or traits that remind me of me. To hear with my own ears as you cry, giggle, burp, or sneeze. To smell your skin and recognize it as a mix of my own scent mingled with your mother’s. To see you in cute little sleepers festooned with flowers, butterflies, or kitty cats. To watch you eagerly suck down a bottle. To even experience the sweet nastiness of spit-up milk.

But I did. Your mother sent me a message with some words that I had written in another note to the world… “I hope to be able to see her or at least be notified of her birth…” and an invitation to do what I had hoped to do, but didn’t expect to do; to see you in person. I thought for only a moment about how hard it would be for me to do so. It would be a reminder of what I had left behind me and what I was going to miss. I didn’t think too long on it though, because it might be the only time that I could do it and I wasn’t going to pass it up…I didn’t want to pass it up. You are only a month old and you won’t remember seeing me, but I will remember this experience for the rest of my life.

While your momma went to the store, I held you as you slept and told you things. I told you that you were beautiful. I told you that your momma was going to take care of you, and that she was going to do a good job too. I can tell that she is already doing a good job of it. I’ve done it before and she hasn’t, but she was already doing the things she knew to do. Mommas know. They do. It must be ingrained into every females psyche. The ability to know what to do with offspring must surely be in their DNA, passed on down from generation to generation. I told you that even if I wasn’t going to be there physically, I certainly will be there emotionally and spiritually. Through the tears that I desperately tried to hold back, I whispered to you as I kissed your forehead… “I love you.” I told you that you were going to be just fine. Your momma will do a great job with you. You have not only her, but you are going to have so many aunts and uncles to show you how to do the things that they do, the things that make them who they are. I told you all these things.

And I told you I was sorry…

I’m not sorry that you are here. No, I could never be sorry about that. I am sorry that I am not here. I am sorry that your momma is going to go at this alone. Not entirely alone, but momma knows what I mean. Ask her about it while she is changing your diaper, cleaning up your messes, looking at you lovingly, and while tickling your nose and calling you “monkey”. Ask her about it one day while you are chasing cats around the house, watching stained glass creativity, or while pulling numerous books off the shelves.

I spent hours there, but it seemed as mere minutes. As the time came for me to go, I held you once more. I looked at your eyes, dark orbs of blue, unknowing yet full of infantile wisdom. I looked at your little Mohawk of hair on your head. I took several sniffs of your skin and clothes to make my brain remember what you smelled like. Your momma likes good smells. She told me numerous times that I smelled good, and that was even after a long day at work…go figure. I want to remember your smell. I hope I do years from now. I know that I still smelled you and your momma all the way home tonight.

It was hard, Rowan. It was really hard on me seeing you, knowing that I probably won’t get this chance again. But I am happy that I did it. I thank your momma from the bottom of my heart for giving me this chance, just as much as she thanks me for her gift, probably the best gift she has ever gotten. You. You really are a gift for her to have and to hold for the rest of her life. I am just glad I had you to hold for that one brief moment in time; a moment that I will have and hold forever.

You be a good girl. I know you will.

Love,
CNC

The Beautiful Things

Ok, show of hands…who saw the sunset tonight? C’mon, somebody had to have seen it other than myself. I was driving home just about that time and had to stop at the post office in Apison and just take it in. There were purples and yellows, reds and oranges. There were some clouds that were absorbing the colors wonderfully, looking like a rumpled comforter on an unmade bed. I stood in awe then remembered the camera on my phone. I need to start carrying around my camera, the real one, not this feeble attempt at a camera that I carry in my pocket. Cell phones…they’re not just for calls anymore. The quality isn’t that great in dim lighting, but is pretty ok with good light and no movement.

I took several shots, and the above one was the one that was the most clear, but with those danged utility lines in the way. I stood there for a while and took in the piece of art that was changing before me. Before it was all the way gone, I got in my bus and continued my trek home. In my rear view mirror and side mirrors I could see at different times the glow of the sky. I thought it was just beautiful.

By the time I got home, it was dark and only a tint of red remained in the western sky. I was hoping to get closer to home before it got dark in order to possibly get a glimpse of the mountains in the east reflecting the colors of the sunset, but when I got to where I would be able to see them, they were just these dark shapes on the horizon with not a bit of color in them. That’s ok. The sun will set again, I’m sure.

Seeing tonight’s artwork made me think of the beautiful things in life. A sunrise…just as beautiful (although it is early in the morning…) as a sunset. A sea of wildflowers with varied colors inviting you to run through and fall in among them, with bees and other insects that are attracted buzzing above your head. A far-off mountain range as seen from a valley; that valley as seen from the mountain top. A painting hanging in an art gallery. A well written poem. A woman (sure, some maybe more beautiful than others, but any woman is more beautiful than any man, through my eyes). A child’s picture hanging on the refrigerator, crudely drawn with crayon, drawn with innocence and with love. A waterfall. A well-worn path carving its way through a dense forest. The crystal blue waters of a lagoon on a remote island getaway. A song that makes you think and remember. Life itself.

Sometimes life may not seem beautiful. When your finances are stretched to the point of wondering if utilities will be cut off for non-payment or if the food will last till the next shopping trip; when someone you love hurts you, leaves you, cuts your heart to the core; when you hear things that are said about you behind your back, whether it is true or, like most of the time, just lies spread around; when the balances of happiness and sadness grossly tip over into the negative…life can seem to be not so beautiful. I heard today of the senseless death of a young woman, a mother of two young children. A car wreck took her life and left two others without a mother. Such a sad thing to hear. Makes me think of my own childhood…and feel for those children. Sad times ahead. But you know, it is at those times that the beautiful things in life can stop you in your tracks and leave you in awe. Like tonight’s sunset. I had left my old place after doing a little work on my bus. I know that it is inevitable that I will have to get everything out of the garage. Everything is already out of the house. I still have some odds and ends in the garage, along with my tools and my bus with its heart lying out on the floor. Those things were on my mind on my way from there. I was almost in a depressed state when I left the garage and looked to the west. And there it was, hidden mostly behind a line of trees that for years have blocked my view to the whole picture of the sunset. I hurriedly got in my bus and headed to where I knew I would have a view of the whole western sky. So I got there and…well, got to the beginning of this writing.

Life. It really is beautiful.

You can’t quit until you try
You can’t live until you die
You can’t learn to tell the truth
Until you learn to lie

You can’t breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you’re the joke
There’s nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive

Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?

I know some things that you don’t
I’ve done things that you won’t
There’s nothing like a trailer park to find your way back home

I was waiting for my hearse
What came next was so much worse
It took a funeral to make me feel alive

Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?

“Life is Beautiful” – Sixx Am

It is true. All you have to do in order to see the things of beauty through all the ugly things that stand in the way is to open your eyes and just look. And see.