Love Undone

All that was left was a crumpled ten dollar bill and a greasy paper bag. There wasn’t even the stench of bad take-out in the apartment and yet, I was sick to the core. I wish we hadn’t stayed in last night. Why didn’t we go to Julia’s housewarming? She was only my closest friend in the world and he knew that. He knew all too well that she was one of the few girlfriends I had left but he didn’t care. He claimed that she was jealous of our relationship; he reasoned that she was out to ruin what we had worked so hard to achieve – nearly two years of overcoming petty arguments and celebrating dating bliss.

On our fifth date, Ben told me he was starting to fall for me. He was sincere, intelligent, ambitious, and funny. He loved to talk and even more so, he always seemed interested in what I had to say. Even when he didn’t agree with me on a certain issue, he would merely silence me with a kiss and tell me how cute I was for speaking my mind. And I believed him. I believed everything he told me because I was falling for him too.

I believed in him and our love. I think he believed in me too but somewhere down the road, he stopped respecting me. Maybe I shouldn’t have passed on the job promotion in Boston, but I knew his last long-distance relationship had failed miserably. Or maybe it was my dropping my night class, but I had good intentions – I wanted to have more time to spend with him. I justified all these acts and more by convincing myself that our love was more important, that he was more important. But I sensed that he wasn’t satisfied with my gestures of love, so I tried harder.

After one year of serious dating, we, or rather he decided that we should move in together. I had just graduated from college, so I thought it was a practical idea…after all, I needed to find an apartment anyway. Three days after graduation, I packed up all of my belongings and despite the lack of support from my parents, I moved in with Ben. At first, living together turned out to be a great idea and a wonderful experience. I loved waking up every morning with him beside me. I made dinner on weeknights and Ben would bring home flowers for the apartment almost everyday. He said the flowers could remind me of him in his absence and I told myself I loved him even more than I had imagined.

I loved him. I still love him. But that wasn’t enough, I realize now. Last night, for the first time that I can remember, Ben didn’t want to talk. We ate our meal in complete silence and after he finished, he instinctively walked over to the window. He said our view of the city was magnificent and that he was amazed by how much movement and change occurred right outside of our window. He said watching everything outside reminded him of his ambition – he wanted to start his own company, buy a condo in the city, and travel more. Ben always shared his dreams with me – they were ours – but tonight, he spoke of his future as if he had already moved on without me. He turned back towards the window and his gaze froze on the night sky as though he were silently mourning something he had lost or was wishing he were out there looking for something he hadn’t yet found. From the reflection in the glass, I saw the face of love for the last time. I whispered his name but he merely lowered his eyes. If he had seen the anguish on my face, he wouldn’t have walked out the door. Perhaps he wasn’t looking hard enough. Or perhaps he chose not to look back.

Next week would have been our two-year anniversary. He hated planning our nights out, so I made reservations for us at his favorite restaurant. I bought a new dress and I even splurged on an absurdly expensive stereo system for him. God, what cruel irony this is that I’m sitting here listening to part two of his gift – a CD I made of fifteen love songs that remind me of us. What does Brian McKnight know about our love anyway? Romance died a long time ago and to think about it, so did I.

(my original submission for a short story contest, October 2000)

when the storm comes

When the storm comes,
I'll close the shutters
And light a candle.
I'll prepare to disconnect
From the outside world,
As I slowly retreat
To my inner fortress.

Before the waves hit,
I'll stand my ground
And brace for impact.
I'll reach for anchors
Should any float by,
Amidst the cluttered souls
Of our collective strife.

As the rains fall,
I'll take familiar shelter
And watch through windowpanes.
I'll embrace the chaos
And the struggles within,
While weathering the storm
And its every uncertainty.

why kindness matters

In the third grade, I once had a substitute teacher who skipped the conventional classroom lesson and gave us the opportunity to pose anonymous questions to her about anything and everything under the sun. The question I wrote on my strip of paper was: “why do bad things happen in the world?” At eight years old, I watched the news (maybe unbeknownst to my parents) and read enough to know that the world was imperfectly wild, and sometimes, disturbingly scary. I understood that there were bad people out there (and my parents cautioned me about this), but I didn’t really understand why. Apparently, my substitute teacher didn’t know either. When she unfolded my question and read it aloud, she sounded somewhat annoyed and amused, as if she couldn’t be bothered with such a silly question. I genuinely wanted to hear what she had to say. I thought she might impart some big-person wisdom, some insights that our parents were afraid to share, or even real-world advice on how to be a good person. But in a dismissive tone, she answered, “Because the world isn’t perfect and God gave us good people and bad people.” I no longer liked this game of hers. I was disappointed (thanks, Teacher, for humoring a kid). And then I had to sit through a dozen questions about the existence of unicorns, when we’d have recess, and why our teacher was really absent.

Twenty-something years later, I think I should be old enough to answer my question for myself, but in all honesty, I don’t have the answer. And yet, I imagine if I had to answer this question for an eight-year-old student, I would say that bad things happen in the world so we can better recognize the good, try to correct the bad, and propagate kindness instead of hatred. I suppose that’s the answer I would offer for any age, but would I offer that in any circumstance? In the wake of recent tragedies, this question is relevant because so many people are looking for answers. And maybe right now, the answer lies in how we, as a larger community, respond. As one of the victims of the recent Aurora shooting said, “The prayers of strangers do matter.” It matters that we care about our community, that we remember this day, and that we continue to propagate kindness. The Aurora tragedy is not a local tragedy – it is a national tragedy and a human tragedy in every sense of the word. It’s not enough to memorialize the fallen or sentence the guilty, we have to do better. We have to respond through goodness and shrug off indifference. We have to keep asking that question of ourselves and those around us and choose to stand on the side of good. We need to have these difficult conversations with our children, our students and our families. We have to believe that a kind thought matters. A good intention matters. And in this imperfect world that we live in, a prayer for a stranger matters.

On being 20

The things I thought about when I was thinking outside of the classroom...looking back, I'd have to say I was one part idealist, one part cheese ball.

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The purpose of life is not found in a static existence. One must always challenge oneself, voice one's opinions, seek daily inspiration and simply evolve. Humanity is not lost nor forsaken; it is merely in need of a reawakening.

Love starts at the eyes, is refined at the lips and progresses down the body. However, lust travels upward and may never reach the depth of the eyes or the lips.

Women are truly amazing creatures. Not only are we constantly reinventing ourselves and striving for higher self-awareness, but we also love to help other women improve themselves. No matter how old we get, we never get tired of giving each other makeovers.

To understand the world, place yourself outside of it, but to cherish this world, never cease to think about your place in it.

The mind echoes everything the heart wishes it could say.

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The Course of Love

You ask why I couldn’t love you—
How I never let you in
Because my heart was impenetrable.
You ask why I let you go—
Why I denied your right to love me
Because I was terrified by Love.
I watched you leave me in silence
Because I couldn’t ask you to stay.
Your love gave me strength
But my loving you made me weak.
You loved me wholly and freely, I know.
But I loved you as one loves a dream.
I lived in it knowing it was fleeting
And awoke feeling as empty as I did complete.
It was never that I couldn’t love you.
I did love you.
I have always loved you.
My sin was in loving too much—
In holding onto a dream so tightly
That it faded into a perfect memory.
I love you as I miss you—deeply.

4/12/01

the human condition

We move about our lives in a sea of fellow wanderers. We float through the day in nameless crowds. At times, we hide away in our own thoughts or take refuge in our daydreams. If we stopped for a moment to think outside of ourselves, we might catch a glimpse of the other world happening around us. We might sense that the person sitting next to us at lunch is nervous because he is undergoing a life-changing experience, that the person we’re passing on the street is smiling because joy is abounding in his soul, or that the person waiting in line behind us is overburdened by a grief that is settling in his heart. Perhaps we can never truly know these things, but we have an immense capacity for sympathy, empathy, compassion and humanity. Kindness knows no currency, but its value is immeasurable. There is no shame in feeling or connecting. There is only embracing the human condition and crossing the boundary of indifference.

June 3, 2011

Untitled

How does one measure the tide of love?
Days too long, seconds too brief.
When we are entangled as one,
The essence of time is stolen.
We float between this world and the next
Ever forward, ever changing.
When I can be the one you dream of,
I remember that time yields to love, to us.

May 2009