Love is not romance
Romance is another thing
It’s nice
It holds some element of
Promise
Dreams
Hope
But it’s not love
Experience a table filled with family or friends
Who each
Have their stories,
Believe me.
They are here because of love.
Not because of hope of what someday may be
And perhaps even despite what once was
They’re here because of love
Where the people at their sides
Have brought tears in the past
Today, they collectively smile.
This love is fierce.
It’s hard
So incredibly hard.
It’s not pretty
It’s not delicate
Love is not supposed to keep records of wrong,
but I haven’t seen that to be the case.
In fact, the wrongs always hurt
Because why would someone who loves you
hurt you?
We all do it.
We try not to, but we do.
But love wrestles through the pain
As I put my own pieces
Back together,
I question
What’s the stuff of love?
And it mostly has nothing to do with
A first date
Or my wedding day
Nor even the day I brought life into the world
No, those moments were
Magic
Gold
Beauty
Fire
And at times, those memories are the bridge over a rocky road
But love has to be more than that.
Even more than magic
More than butterflies
More than the sweetest kiss on the forehead
Romance is a dozen breathtaking roses
Cut
Ribbon wrapped
Gifted
Dead
Please don’t get me wrong.
I’ll take a bouquet of sunflowers
Or a back rub
Or a compliment
Or help with the dishes
Or a walk in the park with a friend
Any day
Yes, I can speak all the love languages
For I, in fact,
love
Love.
But those things alone are not enough.
Love is not a rose, but a redwood centuries old
Weathering the storms
Growing stronger with each
And breathing new life into the forest
Of course the tree feels pain,
After all, don’t they say, “love hurts?”
It hurts so much.
It challenges.
Ouch, challenge does not feel like love
No, love is not a feeling.
It’s the substance that
Grows,
Changes,
Creates,
And Gives
It doesn’t grow or change or create or give alone.
No, love needs love too
Or else become The Giving Tree
That tree needs water and sun and the birds and the bees.
It needs to care and be cared for.
Just as the tree breathes in the
waste of the world,
To give us
Clean air,
Love receives an imperfect, tired, desperate attempt
at some mushy thing hoping to show love
You know the kind -
The kind that says
“I don’t know what else you want from me,
I AM TRYING”
And turns that into something new
It adds a ring to the trunk of the redwood
And fills the room with laughter
Doesn’t hope or worry for tomorrow
No, that’s just romance
Love just loves just because.