love love love....
February 14, 2008
I have a question for those of a “certain age.” When you see the word, love, written three times, do you hear the Beatles’ song in your head, “All You Need is Love?” I do and since its Valentine’s Day, I’ll tell you a story about love and knitting....
I met my husband at a campus bus stop on a crisp sunny Saturday afternoon in October. After a week of grueling classes, I decided to go into town to spend my week’s lunch money on yarn. Pumped with excitement, I eagerly entered the old Woolworth’s on Maine Street (yup, Woolworths-we’re talking no money college years-will sacrifice lunch to knit-will knit any fiber desperation) and spent hours picking out two contrasting colors of yarn for a stitch sampler blanket. Afterwards, very pleased with my blanket stash, I walked from downtown up to the nearest campus bus stop. About five minutes after I sat down, I saw a group of boisterous young men dismounting a bus, my then future husband was one of them. He broke away from the group as soon as his feet touched the ground and walked straight towards me. “Oh no,” whispers the brain, ”Its a pick up.” Before I knew it, he was right in front of me talkin away, askin questions...blah blah blah.
He did most of the talking (nothing has changed much over the years) and finally asked the big question, “May I have your phone number?” I hesitated inside, almost said no. As far as I was concerned this was not going to be a “pick up guy at the bus stop” kind of day, but it was his hands.....his fingers.....they were medium thick with fine lines at the joint creases and deep dimples around the knuckles, He had impeccably clean blushed fingernails with smooth rounded tips. His hands were not too large, not too small. They were exactly like my father’s hands, so of course I gave him my phone number.
We were friends for 5 years and partners for one year before we entered what is now 24 years of marriage. I still admire his hands- curled around a mug of coffee or folded together after a meal like in the picture above. Falling in love is intoxicating-a sensual poetry-a beautiful dance. You can barely breathe for living. Staying in love is deep understanding with patience, a river of mistakes, a river of forgiveness along with the constant practice of “letting go”. Relationships are the fires that purifies the heart. We will leave our possessions behind us when we go and they will happily sit in another house without the slightest shudder, but those we never possessed (our loved ones), will go on walking with the impression of our lives written on their flesh and the way we loved them burning in their heart.
