Tag Archives: love

Love in Ernest

As an undergraduate, I fell in love with Ernest Hemingway. My major in English trumped my minor in Women’s Studies when it came to his mysogynistic ways. After reading a number of biographical works about him I forgave him. He was damaged goods.

imageHis writing impressed me and I have repeatedly heard his voice in my head when I struggle to express myself. “All you have to do is write one true sentence,” he said. Seems simple enough in theory, right? In practice it can be more challenging than you’d expect, but it is a good place to start.

Last year, I reread A Moveable Feast for the first time in many years. I was so taken by his voice and the stories he told of his time in Paris, and other parts of Europe, during the years between the two wars. His love for life – his Hadley, his child, his adopted home, his friends and his writing, radiated from the pages.

There was something else present though, a current of sadness and dissatisfaction. All that he loved was not enough and he took risks and sought out new experiences and stimulations. He was not content.

In many ways Ernest and I are alike. He and I each needed to write. We both loved to be in Europe, to sit in a cafe with a bottle of wine and observe all around us. Perhaps if I had written a book such as A Moveable Feast during my marriage, I would have revealed a discontent similar to Ernest’s.

I picked up a new copy of my favorite Hemingway book the other afternoon from the store where he would go for a drink and a few francs when he was in need.  The book of my life I’m writing right now has a much happier ending than Ernest ever could have imagined for himself.

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Filed under Books, Europe, favorites, France, travel, vacation

I never imagined

imageOn our 15th wedding anniversary, my husband and I had a special dinner at a restaurant on Martha’s Vineyard. The meal was a bit of a disappointment, but the company was good.

After we had finished our meals and were somewhere between entrée and dessert, our wedding song came on over the restaurant’s speakers. I was touched and felt my eyes well with emotion. I thought to myself “we should dance.” There wasn’t a dance floor (it was a restaurant), but we could have managed a twirl or two. It was our 15th wedding anniversary.

I’ve thought back to that night a few times and wonder what might have been different if I had forced the words “we should dance” out of my mouth or if he had said “I arranged for this song to play.” If either of us had done something to demonstrate our love for the other. Would it have been enough to have prompted us to steer our ships once again to be side by side and in the same direction? I’ll never know.

By our next anniversary dinner, we were, in retrospect, clearly sailing in different directions. It was a fancy meal, perfectly executed and filled with laughter. We met the chef-owner and there were many bottles of wine uncorked. My feet hurt in their new shoes. It was good to feel something.

It’s almost 5 years later now and I never dreamed this life that I’m living. I write and run and work and eat and take pictures and I love, love, love. I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt and am equally inspired by today and the thought of tomorrow. Things may not have gone the way I imagined they would, but as an inherently grounded person, my imagination is sometimes too timid.

I never imagined I’d quote Hugh Hefner but he said it perfectly:

“In my wildest dreams, I could not have imagined a sweeter life.”

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Filed under aging, love, marriage, musings, relationships, writing

Love, me

Image: //www.techiy.com

Image: //www.techiy.com

Don’t even approach my body unless you’ve first been between my ears. I’m 48, not 18.

True love isn’t roses and chocolate. It’s starting my car on a winter’s morning or bringing home pizza on a Friday night.

Love is buying me the Sunday paper on Saturday so I don’t have to go outside on a cold morning.

Love means being able to continue to believe.

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Filed under aging, holidays, love, musings, relationships, winter

Dog years and the passage of time

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The day we first met Jeter

The youngest of my “boys” recently celebrated his first birthday and, while the occasion was a happy one to mark, I also noted the date with a tinge of sadness. That year certainly went quickly. When I thought about the number of years we got to love Cassidy (12.5) and started doing simple math in my head, I got a bit melancholy considering how few more years we can expect Jeter to be our baby. It simply doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

I don’t dwell on the lack of how much time remains, but I do find myself conscious of it. I’ve been thinking a lot about time recently. The older I get, the more I value it. What to do with my time and who to spend it with are two of the most important decisions I make each day. What once seemed infinite has definitely evolved into being one of life’s most precious gifts. It’s true, time is a present and I’ve vowed to become even more discriminating about how I use it.

When it comes to time, how long are you willing to invest in someone? What length of time would you give a person to show you their very best? A week? A year? Or, are you of the mindset that we’re all works in progress and it is acceptable to wait forever? It’s a tough call, one we each have to make (and live with) ourselves.

How do we ever know if we’ve done the right thing(s) with our time? As my oldest son gets ready to make decisions about where to continue to his education and to leave home, I wonder how the time of our living under the same roof went by so remarkably fast. Is he ready? Did his father and I sufficiently prepare him for what comes next? Was our time together well spent?

Is there a way to ever truly know? Or, maybe a means to just slow down the clock?

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Filed under aging, Boys, family, love, musings, relationships, Schools

My Christmas wish list, 2014

  1. A universe and population that has evolved to understand that we’re more alike than different.
  2. Fewer guns in that wiser universe.
  3. In my own personal DelSo planet,  the boys to clean their bedrooms.
  4. A romantic love that inspires.
  5. If number four doesn’t happen, Bradley Cooper would be an acceptable alternative.

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Filed under Boys, Christmas, holidays, ideas, love

(Not)OKCupid

Disclaimer: What follows is my own limited experience on a free dating site.  Two things to remember, everything I share below is painfully true and you get what you pay for.

Last week I went skiing with a friend and we, as women do, got to talking about dating and the state of our romantic lives.  She had recently signed up for an online dating site, OKCupid and showed me some of her “matches,” none of whom looked too scary.  Like me, she is a busy, divorced mom not into the bar scene.  As a purely social experiment, I decided to follow her lead and create an account myself.

Monday, I began the new week with a new online profile.  My screen name, Notadaywasted, summed up my life philosophy and I embellished my profile with minimal details and a couple of random photos which had already seen the light of day on Facebook.  Within minutes the messages started coming…

Most of the messages I received were simply overtures like “Hello, pretty lady” or remarks about my appearance.  None were from anyone to whom I felt compelled to reply.  I had listed a range of ages I might be interested in (40-55), but this did not prevent a few twenty-somethings from contacting me, a state of affairs (ha!) I found disturbing.  I mean, I already have 3 sons, know what I mean?

As the day moved on, the messages continued to accumulate.  One guy became increasingly explicit over a series of unanswered messages about what he’d like to show me.  Strike one, cupid, I didn’t sign up for vulgarities.  With each log on to the site come suggestions for matches.  Growing up, there was a kid in my town who reliably responded to any and all requests for a match with the following: “Do I have a match?  Not since Superman died.”  Well, I think a dead Superman would have held more appeal than 99% of the potential matches tossed my way. Strike two, cupid.

The final nail in cupid’s coffin, alternately known as strike 3, came when a friend of mine going back to my undergraduate days, sent me a message asking me how the hell I ended up on an online dating site.  My response?  More rapidly than Katniss’ arrow flies, I deleted my account.

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Filed under love, Observations, relationships

A believer no more

For the first time in 18 years my home is devoid of believers. Let me tell you, it makes for a different sort of holiday build up. No longer is it necessary to hide the packages left on my front porch by the postal carrier. Now, I just stack them up as unobtrusively as possible, tempting the boys to shake and rattle them with full knowledge that electronics don’t really respond well to that sort of treatment.

While there is a certain freedom in no longer believing in someone, it is hard to let go of all the years of faithfully subscribing to a less than realistic possibility. Letting go of belief requires abandoning hope, or giving up, on some level. It’s hard.

When Quinn told me that he “knows that Santa isn’t real,” my initial impulse was to try to persuade him that he was wrong. I wanted the magic of Christmas to stay, even if just for one more year. After thinking about it, I recognized that while it is unlikely that Quinn will ever again truly believe in the fantasy of a red-clad, jolly old man, there remain many holiday traditions to which he can continue to hold firmly. Things like the gift of giving, the custom of a festive Christmas Eve meal and decorations, the gathering of friends and family and the sharing of joy and laughter.

I’d like to believe that each of my children will continue to believe, in some fashion, in magical possibilities.  Despite his skepticism, Quinn has already shared that he intends to leave a note and cookies, “just in case.”  You see, just as young Virginia was told so many years ago…

Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see.

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Filed under Boys, Christmas, holidays