We tell these stories because they remind us of a fond memory, a quiet recall of soft notion, a time when we would appreciate anything in and around our lives, because that energy, that emotion of love would carry our heart further than even our dreams might allow. We talk about our soul and such a major role it plays in our being, in who we are, in what we believe to be true in the moment. We experience the pain of loss, of no longer having a grasp upon this mystique of wonder in our lives, and yet even in tragedy we know no other energy or passion we might rather endure.
Then love is what becomes of our lives. We live for each opportunity to find touch, whether it be intellectual or physical or simply a creative device in our mind that takes us somewhere, a journey beyond the simplistic nature of our human condition. We talk of how love encompasses everything we do, we care, we decide is important in our lives. Love takes precedent over all other matters of purpose. We would sacrifice everything to surely build upon the emotional gains we feel in the throes of true love.
The first love story I believe I read was as a child a Dr. Seuss tale called, “Are You My Mother?” about a young duckling who spent the several pages going up to various people, things and objects in search of what was seemingly the love of a child. I was too young to grasp it of course, but it resonated somewhere in my mind. Then I suppose in my teens it was Ali McGraw and Ryan O’Neal in the original, ‘A Love Story’ where I first began to notice how my body would react to the beauty of human passion shared between two lovers. I do though, think I recall feeling just enamored by Ali McGraw and the innocence of her desire.
Years later there would be a movie called ‘Heaven Can Wait’ and rather than focus on the celebrities in the movie, you can find them on your own, what drew to that piece was that two lovers found themselves years later after believing their lives had parted forever, and the only way they knew something was familiar was a deep look in each other’s eyes after a familiar phrase was shared between the two. The beauty of that moment is watching the intensity that makes the moment, and the audience just sighs for a minute to imagine that love really can be so magical as that silent reality.
Love stories contain their own life span that cannot be controlled by societal terms. Oh yes, we will make decisions that are based upon the need to conform and recognize purpose and moral fiber. But even after all the walls, and seemingly strong barriers have sheltered our fears, there still stands a moment of clarity in the eyes, in the posture, in the memory of how love became, and does certainly become a central point in two people’s lives and reason to know one another beyond a simple gesture.
Love stories matter.
