Tonight I'm thinking a lot about love and what it means to love another person and to be loved by that person. "Love" is a word my husband doesn't seem to trust. I shy away from it too. Except in the first year or so of our 16 years together, we haven't used it much. In recent years, we declared our love for the other a few times on the phone, a few times in writing, especially on cards, but rarely by speaking the words to the other. Why is that?
In the morning at 10:30, I will stand before a judge, who will determine if we will be divorced. If he/she agrees to our plan for dissolution, we will be officially divorced on Monday.
This evening, we went to hear a little presentation in town about wildflowers found in the two National Parks located on our island. After that, we went back to his house and packed a few of the remaining things of mine into my car. Then we watched some TV together, until it was time for me to toddle down the road to my new home. Tomorrow evening, we will have a dress-up dinner at a fancy restaurant to celebrate the "new beginnings," the start of a new pathway for our relationship, which for the last few months seems to be quite a healthy friendship.
So where is love? What is love? Did we love each other? Do we love each other now? I think we did and do... at least, I'm pretty sure about me. It just doesn't quite make sense to me at this moment how we could enjoy being together, care deeply about the welfare of the other, yet not be able to stay married and living together. And what's with not being able to say the words "I love you," to the other person?
There's something odd about the word "love," especially when it comes to our relationship, our history together. I can't speak for him. But for me, love is a can of worms, too big for one little post. Guess for now, I'll sleep on it... maybe write some more about it later.