I had a boyfriend in college who wrote me some of the best love letters I have ever gotten that till this day I can still quote some of his lines back for the sheer poetry of it all, “I only need to know I am loved by you and all becomes right with my world.” “You loving me is the gift of my life. And me enclosing your hand in mine is my joy.”
And he was the kind of boyfriend who, in the middle of us walking UP’s corridors, would stop, draw me close and kiss the top of my head–like he had a lovely thought about me–while he was with me. Nothing over-the-top, just something quietly sweet that only you both noticed.
And he was also the kind of guy who would dance with me in the rain. The kind of guy who cried when we fought and the kind of guy who would give flowers just because. The kind who, like me, loved holding hands, the two of us one happy island drifting in a sea of people.
And on our anniversary, he prepared a picnic basket of wine, grapes, cheese and little sandwiches he himself made and laid that simple feast on a picnic blanket. Then took out his guitar to sing to me. Then read a poem he made for me.
That was the kind of guy he was.
That he broke my young heart to smithereens when he ended our relationship was quite another thing. And that he refused to talk to me for years because it “hurts so bad to see you cry” is quite beside the point too. Nor too that he wanted me back when it was too late because by then, I had already moved on.
This dude was just one of the sweetest.
And when it stopped hurting him so bad to see me cry because I had stopped crying, and when I stopped running away from him and bravely reconsidered and took a look at him again and saw that I could bear it, we became steadfast friends.
Well I saw him the other day at a dinner party. Sat next to him in fact. And we talked and we laughed and we reminisced.
And I wondered why, after all these years, you never really stop loving someone. Not that I would want to run away with him and build a home in the mountains with him and have 10 kids with him. Goodness, no. In fact one of my happiness with this guy is just how real his marriage is. And it makes me real proud too because I imagine I somehow had something to do with that, having taught him a thing or two about ye good olde love.
I only mean that love never ends.
And before I left he said, “What I remember the most about you is your laughter. I’m happy it hasn’t changed. It still sounds like rain.” is what he said.
My laughter sounds like rain. Can you beat that, guys?
I think I am going to take that line to my grave. Bury it with me, please.
And I love that sometimes the good things in people you love don’t change even when so much about the two of you has changed.
And love it even more that love never ends. Not with me at least.