This morning as I was walking around in the crisp autumn day, I looked up to see a proposal in the sky. It made me smile. It's a grand alternative to going down on one knee. And I wondered whether Caroline had seen the fluffy white question and how the person who had paid the signwriter had orchestrated the whole thing. And did she say yes?
Then I walked a bit further and just happened to look up and see the completion of a heart. I felt lucky to have thought to look up at the right time as the plane made its final stroke. Because the expression of love in the sky dissipated almost as soon as it was made.
That's what can happen with expressions of love. They are made and they mean something and then they are gone. And the time in between can vary. But just because they are gone does not mean they didn't happen. I have evidence in the above photo that someone of a romantic and extravagant nature loves Caroline. The fact that two minutes after the statement was made, there was nothing, except my photo to prove it, is a moot point.
People love. They make statements about love. They mean it. Then sometimes they don't mean it any more. Or they still mean it but they just don't say it all the time. Or they have a different way of saying it to how we might say it or how we might need them to say it.
The expression of love, whatever its form and duration, always contains beauty and golden-ness and soul-filling wonder.
Often, when we see only the space left once the expression fades, the idea of love can also contain fear and apprehension and a certain wariness. The past is a story we tell ourselves. And we don't always tell it right.
“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.” Maya Angelou
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