So Valentine’s Day is coming up fast. And I am getting all these application requests on Facebook that I reject immediately. People around me talk about Love and Valentine’s Day Gifts. Both men and women are worried about what to get their love(s). A few are declaring their undying hate for both Cupid’s arrow and the day of love. Honestly, I don’t give a fig about it all.
It doesn’t matter either way. That’s not because I do not love. It is not because I have no one to love me, either. I won’t even try to explain my take on the Valentine Day origins and the hullabaloo of commercialized love. I will just reiterate on what I said last year when someone asked me if I believed in love.
I would rather have a thousand days of simple meals, hugs, kisses, respect, and trust over one day of a pretty card, expensive gifts and a fancy meal. So I’ll just tell you about my idea of love.
Love is the mother who does not agree with me 100% of the time, but who understands that I have a path to follow, and choices to make for myself, and does not impose her choices on me, even though she gave birth to me, and raised me, on her own mostly.
Love is the friend who will tell me straight out that I am wrong when I am wrong, but will stand by me to the ends of the earth if anyone else tries to attack me.
Love is the friend who calls me from a thousand miles away to see how I am even though he himself has been through a ghoulish day.
Love is Daddy, when he buys lunch for the kids at the centre, because he knows this weekend I am broke and sick, and won’t be at the centre, and it is killing me.
Love is Grandpa John, looking after Grandma Peris during the days when she was really sick, even though he himself was quite old at the time, love is the memories he cherishes of her now, when she is gone.
Love is the grandchild, the great grandchild who spares the time to share that great big kettle of milky tea and listen to him talk about 1945 and 1973 all at the same time, as if they were one year. Because that’s all he want now, someone to talk to.
Love, love is the kitty who waits for me at the wall of the gate every single night until I get home, and then greets me as if I am the best thing that happened to her all day.
Sometimes, love is the flutter of hope in my tummy every time I think there might be something more about that man, but love proves itself best under time, and fire, with roses and diamonds, or with cactus and sand, with the jade blue glow of the beautiful ocean, or against the dry heat and sun of a drought thrashed land.
Love is… infatuation, sex, passion, desire, sometimes it is. But love is… truth not perfection, integrity not honesty, loyalty not faithfulness, justice not fairness, trust not belief, patience not endurance. Love is a superlative, if you think you are doing enough, you need to do much more.
Love is a way of life, every day, every week, every month, every year, not just a day of love once a year. You might chose one day to celebrate it, that is your choice to make. My choice, is to be outrageously loving to the people who matter to me every single day.
As you decide whether or not to go all out and buy personalized gift items for Sunday 14th February 2010, it might be a good idea to think for a moment what love means to you.
© Juliet Maruru 2010 www.jmaruru.wordpress.com