On Love

People talk about love all the time. In fact, we probably over used the word; after all can we really love everything we claim to love?


If I say I love a movie or a song or a pair of shoes,  does it take away the meaning from when I say I love my children? It's different, of course, but is it possible to love a person and a pair of shoes the same amount, but on different planes?

I ask because, like most girls, I really expected love to be this amazing force that spun me around and made me see the world in a totally different way. Something huge and overwhelmingly powerful that takes your breath away. Now did I feel that about "whatshisname"? No, but by point I didn't figure it was physically possible for me to fall in love and I was using a mini-checklist to find the perfect guy. (The reason I didn't think I could actually feel love is for another post because, truthfully, I have NO idea where that idea came from.)

However, the love I feel for my children isn't even that crazy, powerful way. It's much more  of a quiet feeling that ebbs higher at certain times, but it's always there. It's not even something I'm concious of; it almost feels like another appendage-it's just there. Is that what actual love, like romantic love, feels like too?

I mean I always thought I was very much an Elinore, but I'm thinking maybe I've been a Marianne all along, but tried to force myself into Elinore's shoes. (Note-If you have neither read or seen the Emma Thompson version of Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austin you will just not understand that statement no matter how hard I try to expalin it.)

I mean, how much have the lines, "Can the soul really be satisfied with such polite affections? To love is to burn, to be on fire. Like Juliet or Guinevere or Eloise." always resonated with my heart? But that would be infatuation woudn't it? A blaze that fades and fizzles as time rides by and eventually leaves you shivering. Perhaps, instead, it is a slow, quite smolder that, much like the love I have for the kids, flares and burns at times and then dies back into something comforting and manageable, easy to maintain. Is that really it? I know most of you are married, faithful few? Is that really what it is? Have I finally unlocked some mystery that has puzzled me for 32 years?

Is the true fairy tale just being happy to smile into the eyes for someone else for years?

These are things I need answered guys...come on. I need a bit of help here.