It Will Never Be Like That Again
Today, on the way to work, I popped in an old cd I loved in college. It was Amel Larrieux’s Infinite Possibilities.
It reminded me of how I would feel when I listened to it back then, who I was and what I was all about. She was singing about a lot of things I could identify with at the time. Love, the promise of it, pushing forward against adversity, loving yourself, respecting that you are a tiny, but still essential part of this planet. Amel is awesome (she was one half of Groove Theory, but has a collection of independent albums that are straight up art).
The last song, “Make Me Whole” was a favorite to one of my college roommates. She declared that, would indeed one day be her wedding song.
Both of us were madly in love, college freshmen, deeply devoted to our doting boyfriends. If I knew us then as myself now, I’d be like these kids are freaking annoying. They have no clue. Enjoy it while it lasts, babies. And I’d laugh, a good, hard laugh.
I sent a text to my girl today and told her I was listening to the song and I could not help but smile and think of those days. We were really young, and stupid and innocent, but full of hope and optimism. It was refreshing to even smile and remember what life was like without the scars and harsh lessons in life and love and loss we’ve had to learn over the last decade, but to remember how beautiful and sweet we were back then and how great those times were, that’s a blessing too.
My friend texted back that she wanted to be there again.
I replied: “Can’t go back. But it’s not to say you can’t experience something better on a different level. But nope, it will never be like that again.”
I don’t mourn that I can’t love so blindly and wildly and with the crazy energy of youth and ignorance and lack of experience anymore.
I appreciate that I know I do have the power to love deeply. I have the power to love with a different kind of confidence. I have the power to love with less judgement and more sympathy and empathy. I know that love is a kind word. It’s not always gifts or being taken to a bunch of great dates all of the time.
It’s not always deep, passionate kisses and steamy, sexy nights.
I appreciate that I know that love is patient (still working on that), love is kind, love is slow to anger (slow to anger doesn’t mean it never gets angry), love keeps no record of wrong (I keep a small file that I slowly delete working on that too), love never fails.
I do appreciate that I don’t take my love advice from movies, it’s just my entertainment. I appreciate that I can look at other people’s relationships, successes and failures, but also realize their stories won’t be mine, either. I will always be writing and revising it. It will continue to morph depending on who I share my love with.
Mature love is something I’ve always aspired to, because it’s honest, it’s real, it isn’t always pretty, but it’s like your favorite old blanket, or your old coffee mug or a beat up sweatshirt or pair of underwear you just can’t part with. There is something about the way it feels. There is something about the way it comforts you, the familiarity of it, the security of knowing it’s always there and it will always make you feel the way you feel. Every time. Mature love. Loving someone on that level feels like home.
It is home.