By Belle Monroe
February is the designated month of love according to the Holy Church of Hallmark. When we were asked to write about love I literally laughed out loud. No one is a bigger disaster at it than me. I am the single 36-year-old childless old chick in the club. I could regale you with tales of online dating and disastrous relationships but I kinda need a break from myself and men people. In fact, if I have to answer “what do you do for fun? ” One more time, I just might scream. As of right now my romantic life is about as sedate and nursing home as that Sex and the City reboot.
I was just about to throw in the towel on this article and love while we’re at it, when I realized that celebrating love didn’t have to mean ” I burn for you” (Yep…still not over it. ) It means what you want it to mean. These past 13 months have shown us that love truly is unpredictable, crazy and knows no bounds. Whether it be letting go of loved ones because of Covid, quarantine and lockdown. Apparently Tiger King and Love is Blind were really holding us together. Sometimes it’s been love of country albeit dysfunctional and misguided. Mostly it’s just plain old-fashioned hearts and flowers meet me at the alter in your white dress. (That song will forever slap.)
Today I was in rare form when I got word that a dear friend lost her mom from Covid. She’s an only child and she and her mother were very close. It occurred to me that I have spent days racking my brain trying to write about love. I was even feeling sorry for what I did not have. With that heartbreaking announcement I finally realized that I ignored the foundation and root of all love. It is the love of your parents. Especially that of a mother. My mom would always tell my sister and I that ” we were going to go places and meet people, but no one would ever love us as much as she did.” I kind of just thought that was a mom hack to get us to behave. It took thirty-six years, two cross country moves, one or two heartbreaks and a therapy session to see that she was right. That love is the be all to end all and my heart aches for my friend and what she lost today.
I hope this is the last day that I ever waste a therapy session going over all of the trappings of love that I don’t have and begin to see and appreciate every bit of love I do have. Does this mean that I do not want a man to promenade with (Again did y’all see the way he licked that spoon?) Of course, I do. It just means that as of February 14th, 2021 I haven’t and I have to be okay with that.
This article is dedicated to Cheryl, Danielle, and Shara G. Always
