I "Luff" You!

     How often will we fall in love during our lifetime? Will we really truly fall in love as many times as we think? Or are we only fooling ourselves?

     How many times a day do we say we “love” something? “I really love that shirt!” or even, “I love the hamburgers at Five-Guys!” Some of us even, "...love watching reruns of Sex and the City!” Then, with the same auto-pilot temperament, turn to our significant other and profess, “I love you.”

     In most cases we really do love that person, but we also love that shirt and the hamburgers at Five-Guys. Because of this ambiguity, I came up with another word besides Love to use with my Soul-needle. The next time (last time) I fall in love – true love – I am going to hold her close, look deeply into her eyes and say, “I Luff You.”

     Silly? Maybe. But it’s something I’ve never said to anyone before. It will let that person know she has something from me I have never given to anyone else. I have to let her know that even though I love that dress she’s wearing, I luff her.

     I thought I had tasted true love in the past. I believed I held it right in the palm of my heart. I held it tight and didn’t let go for awhile. Everyone thinks love is elation and comfort and security. It can also reveal past pain and regret and grief. There’s a reason the heart is the symbol for love; because that’s where you feel the pain and exhilaration of love. Wives clutch their hands to their breastbone protecting their heart when their husbands pass away. Men pull their children’s heads to their chest to comfort them. Girls hold their hand over their heart while being proposed to; feeling the palpitations which prove to them it’s real. In good moments and bad, when love is real, the heart processes it.

Daniel and Sylvia (Part 1)

     There was no doubt he was going to get in trouble for what he was about to do. Even knowing eyes were cautiously watching him, he wasn’t about to keep from doing it. For the last six years he had played out his forbidden act at least a few times each of those years and, quite frankly, it had become a bit of a game to him.

     Daniel had been frequenting Baroque’s on the top floor of the Ritz-Carlton since that day six years ago when he landed a position as a Sales Associate for a Medical Supply Company. Coupled with the final hearing of his divorce three weeks earlier, he felt the need to celebrate a new start to his life. A life he hoped would be full of happiness, stability, and eventually, true love; things which had been sorely missing for him. That evening, after getting the call he was the candidate hired, he tapped “Cleveland fancy restaurants” into Google and told himself the first result was where he would treat his newfound beginning. Since that first ceremonial dinner, this cavernous restaurant with its $50 steak dinners, minimalistic décor and patrons who come to rub elbows rather than to eat had become his celebratory hiding place. Anytime he earned a promotion or sold an account the rest of the office envied, this was where he came to do his private end-zone dance. He would always call ahead and ask the maître d, Marques, to save his table in the corner where the walls were windowed from floor to ceiling, showcasing the entire Cleveland nightline before him.

     Tonight, Daniel was sitting with his back against the line of windows which showcased the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Almost always, he would sit with his back to the other patrons so he could take in the horizon and pretend he was all alone in his temporary triumph. For some reason tonight he was in the mood to people-watch. Of course he ran the risk of being caught sooner with what he was about to do but he didn’t care. He took a quick look around, making sure no one was watching before reaching inside his suit jacket. He noticed as he reached for what was in his pocket Marques purposefully turned his back from him as had become their routine.

Ruby's Love Story

(This is an actual true-life story from about a year and a half ago. To this day, Ruby's commitment still emanates with me. It IS possible to find the love of your life and always be with them.)

     As I stood at the bus stop, impatiently waiting for the bus to arrive, I couldn’t help but notice the fluttering in my stomach. It’s an odd reaction for my body to have for a woman I barely know, yet here I stand hoping and praying she will be on the bus with an empty seat next to her. 

     

     Ruby and I met under unusual circumstances. Our relationship began a few weeks ago when she climbed onto the bus and, with no other seats available, I graciously gave up mine. Surprised by a chivalrous act in a day and age of un-chivalry, she appeared pleasantly shocked and thanked me before claiming my vacated seat.

     

     Last Tuesday, Ruby turned 83 years old. The first time I met her she was carrying two bags of groceries in plastic sacks I guess weighed more than she did. Her ebony skin carries a youthful glow which even through the creases of her years, give her a much younger demeanor. Always impeccably dressed, Ruby carries a certain nobility about her learned from the days of boarding schools and etiquette classes. She never slouches; her shoulders always back with a subtle respect always demanded in the most feminine of ways. This four foot-nine inch lady carries a sense of knowing her place in the world and she’s perfectly content with it.

     

     The second time I spent with Ruby was exactly a week later. This time when I got on the bus she was already there. Even though there were a number of other seats, we caught each other’s eye and with the recognition of the gesture from a week earlier floating between us. I asked her if it was ok to join her. She seemed rather tickled by my manners and said as much as I sat down.