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he stood up and yelled something that took me an eternity to forget. And he stormed out of the tree home, but was so angry, forgot he was high up and fell right out the window in the floor.
I guess his pride was more hurt than he was because he just lay there and cried. Of course I went down to his side and he hugged me and apologized and promised he wouldn't leave again. But my heart wasn't the same. For me, love died with his broken leg.

And after that, love was whirlwind of new experiences. It was middle school; it was new friends and new ideas. Love didn't even include him. New love turned its back on my old love and left him behind. Love was the sun shining on your face and the wind in your hair. Love was that first ride in your new car with your new license. Love was party hopping and being able to have fun with your girlfriends.
One day, love found me. He was across the dance floor; I was slumped against the bar. We danced the night away, we talked the morning away, ate lunch and dinner together the next day. And when it came to finally parting, we both were hesitant, because something this good couldn't hold up to being apart. But it did. It held beyond stupid fights, breaking up and drunken nights, until all that we could see was each other.
Love wasn't always hot and heavy. Love then was him sleeping on the couch when I didn't feel like sharing a bed. Love was grocery shopping, and acting like kids. Love was laughing at each other, and being content with each other's company at all times of the day. Love was a cheap ring that would do until we had money for the "real thing." Love was a picture of an uncertain future that didn't seem to matter as long as we were together in it. Love was him.
They say love conquers all, but that's not true. Love couldn't conquer an 18 wheeler losing control and slamming into his car. Love couldn't conquer his internal injuries, his vegetative state and his final flat line. Love couldn't conquer a damn thing. Love ruined my life.
So love became a whirlwind of denial and suppressed emotions. It was going through the apartment alone, and moving back with friends. It was pitiful stares and sappy reassuring glances. It was a bottle of Southern Comfort and a few packs a day. It was a whirlwind of drugs, parties, insignificant and undesirable friends and feelings, stupid mistakes, men who didn't mean a thing and nothing to show for it. Love was a waste of energy.
But love seems to get back at you in the most peculiar ways. Love found me in a foreign country, far from home, staring into the eyes of a 6 year old boy, who seemed to be wiser than his age allowed; who had a familiar look in his eyes that set me right at home. Love held me by the hand and led me through an impoverished village, showing off what little he had, beaming with pride. Love knocked my ass out, let me wallow in the sorrow of it all, and then kicked my ass again, but this time, back in gear and showed me that all is not lost.
Love kept me going through sleepless, sweaty, shaking nights of withdrawal, and kept me motivated to get back to what matters most. Love saved my life.
So what is love now? Love is being able to wake up everyday and smile. Love is independence. Love is waking up in the morning as one person, and going to bed at night knowing I'm somebody different, and embracing that. Love is me.

copyright 2005

Learn more about this author, Micha E.
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