Here I am at a local park that has a cafe with local, fair trade coffee. It is Friday evening, the coffee has kicked in, and I am listening to Olafur Arnalds. A wedding is in the beginning stages of setup, and the bridal party is arriving, one and two people at a time. I think about young love. That love when things are still new, and lives apart and together stretch far across the fields. That love where things can be superficial and forgiveness fleeting or without deeper meaning.
I do not think about or reminisce about specifics, but smile when I think of where I stand today, that I made it through those moments, and when right, grasped the true and long-term meaning of love. I held dear to what was important, and let go of Hollywood romanticism, dug my heals in and fought like hell when I screwed up, to hang on. Even knowing that all my actions and words, all of the apologies and promises, may not make an ounce of difference, that remote possibility of forgiveness and another chance, to be in your life, in your presence, to be across the table from you over the morning paper and coffee, gave me breath, gave me life..
That is love.
