A few months back I had written what I like to call Love Shorts – small interchanges of couples in the initial stages of love. I’m not really sure what prompted these dialogues because I have quite a few Helen Fisher books around. I tend to lean towards the theory that chemical signals from the body convince us we are in love, raising levels in serotonin,* hence the euphoria persuading us that we’re swimming in the elation of amour and all it’s beguiling accruements.
Then there are people like my friend, sweet hopefuls that inspire me to pick up the pen, literally and write away on the subject, certifying that I’m functioning from the reptilian brain** as I write, but that’s her effect. How can I even describe her?
There are some women that you can’t really take your eyes off, they have that je ne sais quoi, that good-heartedness that’s a rarity and always look utterly glamorous even when they make little effort. My friend embodies this wholly and her inner light is so strong that she is flawlessly beautiful. What’s even lovelier is that she doesn’t know it.
This is for my sweet friend who can weep soulfully at the written word and who makes the world a much more romantic place.
“Love?” She asked.
He looked at her searchingly not knowing what to say.
“I love you.”
“No.” He looked irritated. “Forever.”
She smiled. “Forever is simply a cousin of time.”
“I tell you I love you everyday. I show you I love you.”
She intertwined her fingers in his and looked at him pensively. “Darling, I’m not saying that you do not love me, or that your love is the same as mine.”
“Then?” He questioned.
“When we part ways, which at some point we shall, whether it be death, differences or diversity, the love that pulsates through you now will be very different from the love that lingers on the doorstep of our parting.”
“I could love you more.”
“Perhaps.” She frowned from the sun in her eyes. “But over time the language of love softens ever so gently and you have to fight to keep it’s vivacity, it’s gusto, it’s fire. Will you fight for me? Will you put forth the effort, the real effort to see me as you first saw me?”
With all his presence he looked at her with a tender simplicity and admiration as the sun danced in and out of her hair.
“I understand that passion coats the anxious heart and that the love I feel for you is a mere emotion until I take your hand and show you how I can swim through some very rough waters with you. How can I not? What are a few waves when I am holding hands with the sea.”
*Bad pharmaceutical pun but yes, they make a pill for that.
** I know, I know, it’s no longer called that but it sounds so resounding.
Photos by Minelle Mir for Maison Minelle – Versailles romanticism