art by Lori Earley; keep art aliveFor as long as I can remember, in my life, I have loved freely and easily; often giving my heart away a little too carelessly, forever watching it dangle by a thread off the edge of my sleeve. There may be a long list of things that I am ever afraid of, but with love I have always been brave. Brave, or just stupid, would be most people's questioning arguement. But, I prefer to believe that I am a soldier of love, ever fearless and ready to take it on, in all of love's varying forms and conditions. And, for the most part, it has been worth it. Sure, I have had my heart broken more than once, and I have had my share of being way off base and wrong as can be about whom I have trusted my time and affections with. That said, I would not erase any of it, nor would I trade a day of taking chances in love to sit alone, holding myself back, sure that I will never be hurt. What if is a terrible thing to wonder at, and I try to live my life in a way that ensures that I very rarely ask myself that; at least not in regards to love.
What does scare me to the depths of my easily open heart is watching Julia give her heart away with the same reckless abandon as her mother always has. It seems hypocritical, I know, but it is a completely different feeling to watch someone you have given life to, and would give your own life for, be so brave, and possibly stupid, with love. She tells me to trust her, that she is not stupid, that she knows exactly what she is doing, and that this boy is everything she believes him to be. I know this speech well enough that I could mimic it right back at her, word for word, intense emotion for intense emotion, expressive eyes and hands, the whole bit. This speech is the same one I have given a million times over; to my own mother, my closest friends, and even to my own mirrored reflection. I said each and every word of it with the truest conviction that one could ever have; none of what I said or felt were wrong to me, at the time; they were my truths. The doubt and trepidation I feel while listening to her and watching her wax poetic at everything he says and does is probably exactly what everyone else felt. Now I know the other side of the road, the flipped perspective. That is one of the hidden gems that parenthood provides, a look from a different set of eyes.
Julia’s first boyfriend lives in Philadelphia. She met him online and they have built up their relationship through messages, texts and phone calls that last late into the night. I have been there, too. Long distant relationships can be amazing, exciting, frustrating, and lonely experiences. She has felt all of those things, and we have talked about them in depth. Conversations that I could tell she was actually listening to, even. In my times when I am alone in my thoughts I have considered the fact that he lives so far from our front door as a sort of relief. Though I have worried about the hurt and irritations that can arise from loving at a distance, I fooled myself into thinking that there would not be more to the story. That is, until yesterday, when the phone call came and he announced that he will be coming to California next Thursday to visit, accompanied by his sister and mother, and staying by the ocean in Santa Monica. To say she is thrilled and deliciously anxious would be the underestimation of the century.
I want to dance around the house with her, and share in all that joy. But, deep inside I am scared as hell that he will hurt her somehow. That it will not be all that she wants it to be, or maybe worse yet, it will be. Then where is she left? To pine away for someone across the states from where she resides? To spend her hours wishing to be somewhere else, living for phone calls and not living in her life right now. At this juncture she still sees her friends, she still goes out, and she even still flirts with other boys. But, will that be something that disappears if she gives all of her love to this boy, and he returns home after his five day stay? Instead of meeting him with smiles and welcomes I want to take him on one of those Mafia drives and tell him that it will be his final road trip if he hurts her. That he better make himself worth it, worth her attention and care, and that he better love her tomorrow or get right back on the plane and return home before they share a first kiss. Tell him over and again that she is something precious and rare, that there is no other Julia, and that she is incredible.
What does scare me to the depths of my easily open heart is watching Julia give her heart away with the same reckless abandon as her mother always has. It seems hypocritical, I know, but it is a completely different feeling to watch someone you have given life to, and would give your own life for, be so brave, and possibly stupid, with love. She tells me to trust her, that she is not stupid, that she knows exactly what she is doing, and that this boy is everything she believes him to be. I know this speech well enough that I could mimic it right back at her, word for word, intense emotion for intense emotion, expressive eyes and hands, the whole bit. This speech is the same one I have given a million times over; to my own mother, my closest friends, and even to my own mirrored reflection. I said each and every word of it with the truest conviction that one could ever have; none of what I said or felt were wrong to me, at the time; they were my truths. The doubt and trepidation I feel while listening to her and watching her wax poetic at everything he says and does is probably exactly what everyone else felt. Now I know the other side of the road, the flipped perspective. That is one of the hidden gems that parenthood provides, a look from a different set of eyes.
Julia’s first boyfriend lives in Philadelphia. She met him online and they have built up their relationship through messages, texts and phone calls that last late into the night. I have been there, too. Long distant relationships can be amazing, exciting, frustrating, and lonely experiences. She has felt all of those things, and we have talked about them in depth. Conversations that I could tell she was actually listening to, even. In my times when I am alone in my thoughts I have considered the fact that he lives so far from our front door as a sort of relief. Though I have worried about the hurt and irritations that can arise from loving at a distance, I fooled myself into thinking that there would not be more to the story. That is, until yesterday, when the phone call came and he announced that he will be coming to California next Thursday to visit, accompanied by his sister and mother, and staying by the ocean in Santa Monica. To say she is thrilled and deliciously anxious would be the underestimation of the century.
I want to dance around the house with her, and share in all that joy. But, deep inside I am scared as hell that he will hurt her somehow. That it will not be all that she wants it to be, or maybe worse yet, it will be. Then where is she left? To pine away for someone across the states from where she resides? To spend her hours wishing to be somewhere else, living for phone calls and not living in her life right now. At this juncture she still sees her friends, she still goes out, and she even still flirts with other boys. But, will that be something that disappears if she gives all of her love to this boy, and he returns home after his five day stay? Instead of meeting him with smiles and welcomes I want to take him on one of those Mafia drives and tell him that it will be his final road trip if he hurts her. That he better make himself worth it, worth her attention and care, and that he better love her tomorrow or get right back on the plane and return home before they share a first kiss. Tell him over and again that she is something precious and rare, that there is no other Julia, and that she is incredible.
The other part of me wants to tell her to lock up her heart. But, I know only too well, how impossible that can be. Love is beautiful and worth the risk. I know, I know. I taught that to her. But, I am still wishing that if she falls, it will be gently.
Is this a lasting treasure?
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?
L.
you know me, i'm impulsive
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