The Reality of Love

I consider myself a hopeless romantic.  Maybe it’s because of all those fairytales I read as a child where the prince always rescues the poor, overworked, horribly mistreated but gorgeous young girl from the mean stepmother and even meaner stepsisters.  Of course, the prince and the young gorgeous girl fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after; that’s what the stories declare and where they end. 

Sadly, I am not a child any more (even though many psychologists advise us not to completely kill that inner child), and I have some doubts about romantic love.  But, I have not given up on the concept (remember what I said at the beginning); I have learned to modify my expectations.

When I first met my husband, who was not my first love, he soon became my one and only love.  He met most of my expectations of romantic love through his adoring way of looking at me, the soft, sweet words, and then the tender, furtive kisses.  It’s amazing to remember how when his hand touched my hand it was like electric shock invaded my whole being, followed by an overwhelming flow of well-being and warmth.  Yes, I have all of those electrifying moments stored safely in my long-term memory and every once in a while I conjure up the images.  Oh, so romantic, so exciting, so fairytale-like; I enjoyed every moment. 

During our first years of marriage the romance continued, however, as life took us through experiences that required from us strong, mature reactions, our love also changed. It was not less than when we began, but it was different.  We developed a deep understanding of each other and together we were able to handle all the negative situations that came our way.  Not that we did not have some happy, even electrifying moments, maybe less voltage, but nonetheless electrifying and unforgettable.  There were other times when we simply conversed, laughed and enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company. Those good times helped us get through the bad times.  That is the reality of love.

Don’t get me wrong, we do have arguments; sometimes over things that are not really important, but we argue anyway.  What is important is that we do not allow those arguments to create resentment that can easily become bitterness.  In that respect, I am the peacemaker.  Maybe my romantic self helps me be the peacemaker, but that is alright.  I have made a commitment to our relationship and I want it work without losing our love for each other.  My husband has also made a strong commitment and I need to give him credit; he is willing to listen and together we unravel our discontent and negotiate solutions.  I cannot stand being angry at him for too long; I have a need to talk about what caused the discussion and how we can solve the problem.  How can I live with a person who will not communicate?  I cannot.  That is also a reality of love.  To this day we both remember one of the angry moments which lasted overnight.  The next morning he was sitting in the living room holding the newspaper in front of his face and ignoring me completely.  I was in the kitchen when suddenly I decided this situation had to end.  I stomped into the living room, snagged a low cube table, placed it in front of him, sat down, tore the newspaper out of his hands, flung it to the floor and said: “We need to talk!” He was so shocked by my theatrics that he burst out laughing.  Hey, it worked.  We discussed the issue and settled the matter.

Sometimes I resent the fact that I feel like the one who tries to keep the embers of love lighted, but then, someone has to do it, so why not me.  I am a touchy-feely person (maybe that goes with being a romantic), so some days I hug my husband unexpectedly; maybe just before breakfast when we are still in our bedroom just about ready to go to the kitchen, or when he is doing the dishes, or even when we are a bit upset over a silly incident.  I’ll tell you more; he will not initiate hugs, but who cares?  I will continue hugging. Hugs work all the time.  I believe in the power of hugs. Try them.

Love changes over the years.  Nevertheless, if we continue to believe in love and decide that it is worth our most purposeful efforts, it will grow and evolve into a relationship that is rewarding and satisfying, a love that meets our emotional needs. 

I read a poem by the Mexican-American poet Jimmy Santiago Baca that expresses in a beautiful and discerning way what love can be for some of us.  Enjoy.

                                         I Am Offering this Poem

                                       I am offering this poem to you,

                                       since I have nothing else to give.

                                       Keep it like a warm coat

                                       when winter comes to cover you,

                                       or like a pair of thick socks

                                       the cold cannot bite through,

                                                                     I love you,

                                      I have nothing else to give you,

                                      so it is a pot full of yellow corn

                                      to warm your belly in winter,

                                      it is a scarf for your head, to wear

                                      over your hair, to tie up around your face,

                                                                  I love you,

                                    Keep it, treasure this as you would

                                    if you were lost, needing direction,

                                    in the wilderness life becomes when mature;

                                    and in the corner of your drawer,

                                    tucked away like a cabin or hogan

                                    in dense trees, come knocking,

                                    and I will answer, give you directions,

                                    and let you warm yourself by this fire,

                                    rest by this fire, and make you feel safe

                                                                  I love you,

                                   It’s all I have to give,

                                   and all anyone needs to live,

                                   and to go on living inside,

                                  when the world outside

                                  no longer cares if you live or die;

                                  remember,

                                                                    I love you.

Jimmy Santiago Baca, “I Am Offering this Poem” from Immigrants in Our Own Land and Selected Early Poems..