Remembering Love
It was a beautiful star lit night, as she sat, rocking in her swing, alone with nothing but her memories. The crickets sang a song of a time that has since long past; their melody stirring emotions that had long been forgotten.
The song she heard reminded her of her true love. The man she often missed who had awakened her forgotten passion. He was her betrothed, her husband; the man she had pledged to love till do they part. As she thought about that vow, she realized that when she spoke the words aloud, she thought they meant physical death. It had never occurred to her that death of a marriage could also be symbolic. That death could mean the demise of love and passion. She didn’t realize that death could mean the ending of a way of life.
She just didn’t know that death could mean the transformation of one being into another.
He was the man she had loved all her life. The friend she had first met when she was just a young girl of seven. Never realizing that the fresh young boy standing before her was her soul mate, her che; the one person who would grow to know her better than she knew herself.
He would be the man who would touch her soul. He would evoke great waves of passion within her with just a touch, a word, or a simple look. He would be the man who would push her past her self-inflicted limitations and force her to see herself through his eyes; the eyes that saw her as strong, invincible and capable of doing great things. He would be the one who would both elevate and tear her down. Only he had the power to change the dynamics of her world with a simple caress or gentle whisper in her ear.
He would be the one to rescue her when the world tried to destroy her. The one to tell her she was beautiful when she felt unattractive and useless. He was the one who put her back together after her heart had been broken by another. He gave her the self-confidence to recapture the resiliency that only comes with youth.
He made her feel desired and wanted when she felt old and ugly. Reaching out to her and touching the very core of her heart where a wall of bricks had been built. He faced that wall and carried away the bricks one at a time until the wall no longer existed. He taught her that it was okay to love again, to trust again; to be one in spirit again. He gave her the courage to find and love herself even when it seemed that no one else ever would.
Yes, her true love had come and gone several times over. He was a caregiver, a lover and a friend. He would break her heart; put it back together; only to tear it apart when she would find herself alone, yet again.
As she sat on the swing, listening to the song of love that was being sung by the creatures of the night, she realized that her true love had held many faces. He was the young boy of her youth, who had simply moved away. He was the man she had married, who decided one day that marriage wasn’t for him. He was the lover who came to restore her self-worth. He was the man who showed her what it meant to be a woman.
Yes, her true love had been many men, yet one. He would forever be her memories of love, their faces running together a collage of faces, but still only one. Although alone, she realized she would never be by herself. Not as long as she held tight to the memory of her one true love.
It was a beautiful star lit night, as she sat, rocking in her swing, alone with nothing but her memories. The crickets sang a song of a time that has since long past; their melody stirring emotions that had long been forgotten.
The song she heard reminded her of her true love. The man she often missed who had awakened her forgotten passion. He was her betrothed, her husband; the man she had pledged to love till do they part. As she thought about that vow, she realized that when she spoke the words aloud, she thought they meant physical death. It had never occurred to her that death of a marriage could also be symbolic. That death could mean the demise of love and passion. She didn’t realize that death could mean the ending of a way of life.
She just didn’t know that death could mean the transformation of one being into another.
He was the man she had loved all her life. The friend she had first met when she was just a young girl of seven. Never realizing that the fresh young boy standing before her was her soul mate, her che; the one person who would grow to know her better than she knew herself.
He would be the man who would touch her soul. He would evoke great waves of passion within her with just a touch, a word, or a simple look. He would be the man who would push her past her self-inflicted limitations and force her to see herself through his eyes; the eyes that saw her as strong, invincible and capable of doing great things. He would be the one who would both elevate and tear her down. Only he had the power to change the dynamics of her world with a simple caress or gentle whisper in her ear.
He would be the one to rescue her when the world tried to destroy her. The one to tell her she was beautiful when she felt unattractive and useless. He was the one who put her back together after her heart had been broken by another. He gave her the self-confidence to recapture the resiliency that only comes with youth.
He made her feel desired and wanted when she felt old and ugly. Reaching out to her and touching the very core of her heart where a wall of bricks had been built. He faced that wall and carried away the bricks one at a time until the wall no longer existed. He taught her that it was okay to love again, to trust again; to be one in spirit again. He gave her the courage to find and love herself even when it seemed that no one else ever would.
Yes, her true love had come and gone several times over. He was a caregiver, a lover and a friend. He would break her heart; put it back together; only to tear it apart when she would find herself alone, yet again.
As she sat on the swing, listening to the song of love that was being sung by the creatures of the night, she realized that her true love had held many faces. He was the young boy of her youth, who had simply moved away. He was the man she had married, who decided one day that marriage wasn’t for him. He was the lover who came to restore her self-worth. He was the man who showed her what it meant to be a woman.
Yes, her true love had been many men, yet one. He would forever be her memories of love, their faces running together a collage of faces, but still only one. Although alone, she realized she would never be by herself. Not as long as she held tight to the memory of her one true love.
Jacqueline Moore is the author of the forthcoming Serving Justice. Find out more at http://www.peaceinthestormpublishing.com/
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