I Missed the Boat

I miss stuff. Not in the longing sense, but more in that absent-minded professor way of getting sidetracked and missing stuff. Big stuff, little stuff, life stuff....My mom can tell me a dozen times that something is going to occur...something I want or need...and I miss it.

Today, I missed the boat. The Love Boat actually. I missed an amazing opportunity into the dynamics of relationships. What exactly did I miss? I don't know. I just know that it was BIG STUFF. And it was about love.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an examiner. A self-examiner. I analyze myself to annoyance. My head, my heart, my soul, my spirituality, my feminism, my thighs (most annoying right now), my relationships. Just everything. So, trust me when I say I know myself.

Now back to love....and what it is....does anyone really know?

My mom has this old shawl. It's lovely...it really is. It's cashmere and warm. And the color is perfect and whenever she wears it, people always comment on it. It's about 25 years old. You don't know that at first glance, because she's taken care of it. Followed the instructions on cleaning it. Stored it safely and treasured it.

To me that is what love is like.

She will tell you about how she saved her money to buy the shawl. She didn't charge it and pay more than she needed. She saved and waited until she could afford it. There is a lot to be said for waiting. Especially in our world of immediate gratification. But you can still see joy on her face when she recalls actually buying the shawl. Then she will show you the things you don't see: the small tear from a kitten chewing on it, a couple of moth eaten holes, places that are worn thin from wear, one piece of fringe missing (most likely another kitten) and couple of places at the edge that have unraveled.

How is that like love, you ask? From the beginning, it's like buying the shawl. There is such giddiness about something new that you have wanted, had to 'save up' to obtain. You are happy to show off your love-write it in the sky or doodle it on the pages of your journals. You drag out your shawl on every cold day, regardless of how it looks or matches. YOU think it matches everything!

The next year, you get chilly and think about dragging out your beautiful shawl. Ah....now it's both functional and fashionable. You still love it-the way it looks, how people admire it, but now it keeps you warm and dry. As the years pass, though it is still lovely, it's the comfort that you long for and appreciate the most from your shawl. It's knowing that it will still be a prized possession after years of rain, cold, mud, kids drying the dog with it (sorry mom), wiping tears and runny noses with it (sorry again), wrapping up as many kids and animals as possible.
Years go by and you pull it out during inclement weather...sort of like relationships. You get so busy with life and realize you're cold or wet or need comfort and out comes the shawl. Eventually, you leave it tossed on a chair year round, because the need and desire for it is now more frequent.
To me that is an allegory for love. In the beginning, the beauty and newness is overwhelming. You want the world to know about this crazy thing you feel. As time passes, it is still so beautiful, but function takes over and the real living begins. Love is knowing that there will be stormy-days of thinking you will never sleep again when your children are born, days of hectic schedules, thinking that you haven't seen your husband for weeks except in passing. It's knowing that eventually parents will pass on and already wondering how you will get your spouse through that terrible time. It's knowing that you might outlive your children and getting through that, too. It's knowing that one day, you might be taking care of your spouse because he is no longer able. It's all that and a million unforeseen things in between.
If you ask my mom why she spent so much on her shawl, she'll tell you that it was worth every penny. Quality, she says, will last forever.

I know quality when I see it. The kind that will mature, age beautifully, be a constant source of warmth and shelter and love.

I wish whoever created the shawl knew how much joy, warmth and happiness my mom derived from it. This is where love can be a little different: I can say thank you. I don't know how the love will wear, but I know that it will wear forever. Because of the love you put into it before I ever got here.