Good Love
"I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain."
— John Keats
Tonight I watched Bright Star and was reminded of true love. The kind of love where you sit on the porch and watch a rainstorm together; you wrapped up in your own blanket with your knees tucked to your chest, while he unassumingly puts a protective arm around you. The tender kind of friendship love where you sit in opposite corners of the same room, and talk about life and dreams and fears. The feeling you had when he touched your cheek for the first time. When he came up to you and your date at a school dance, hugged you tight and told you that you looked beautiful. Then he turned to your date and kindly said, “Take care of her. She’s my best friend.”
The middle of the night taps on your window when he came over to give you a picture he’d drawn, a letter he’d written, or simply to give you one last kiss goodnight. The yearning to see him when it has been far too long. That powder-keg happiness when you came home from being with him and the giddy bottle inside of your stomach threatened to explode at any moment, sending sparklers out of your fingers and toes. The innocent love. That appreciates the way it felt to hold hands for the first time. The unfamiliar sensation that burned through you when he pressed his lips to your hand. The first kiss. The time he said, “Remember every morning when you wake up that I love you.” And you did.
I’m tired of the mucky ideas of love that the television hurls in our faces. I’m tired of shows about teenagers missing all of the knee-trembling nuances of falling in love for the first time and skipping instead to third base. The writers focus on sex so much, that we’re raising a whole society of people that will never know what the whole spectrum of love can entail. I feel like we’re robbing them of some of the sweetest moments of our own lives. I feel like we’ve lost a good love that the world once had.
I’m on a quest to support the good love. The sweet love. The real love.
Are you with me? :)
— John Keats
Tonight I watched Bright Star and was reminded of true love. The kind of love where you sit on the porch and watch a rainstorm together; you wrapped up in your own blanket with your knees tucked to your chest, while he unassumingly puts a protective arm around you. The tender kind of friendship love where you sit in opposite corners of the same room, and talk about life and dreams and fears. The feeling you had when he touched your cheek for the first time. When he came up to you and your date at a school dance, hugged you tight and told you that you looked beautiful. Then he turned to your date and kindly said, “Take care of her. She’s my best friend.”
The middle of the night taps on your window when he came over to give you a picture he’d drawn, a letter he’d written, or simply to give you one last kiss goodnight. The yearning to see him when it has been far too long. That powder-keg happiness when you came home from being with him and the giddy bottle inside of your stomach threatened to explode at any moment, sending sparklers out of your fingers and toes. The innocent love. That appreciates the way it felt to hold hands for the first time. The unfamiliar sensation that burned through you when he pressed his lips to your hand. The first kiss. The time he said, “Remember every morning when you wake up that I love you.” And you did.
I’m tired of the mucky ideas of love that the television hurls in our faces. I’m tired of shows about teenagers missing all of the knee-trembling nuances of falling in love for the first time and skipping instead to third base. The writers focus on sex so much, that we’re raising a whole society of people that will never know what the whole spectrum of love can entail. I feel like we’re robbing them of some of the sweetest moments of our own lives. I feel like we’ve lost a good love that the world once had.
I’m on a quest to support the good love. The sweet love. The real love.
Are you with me? :)
Comments
But could you tell Paul to stop absentmindedly farting when I try to have a serious, heartfelt conversation with him?
thanks
If you have it, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.
~Sir James M. Barrie