Category Archives: love

All is fair in love and war

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The art of building and maintaining a relationship is a craft that is sometimes difficult to master.  There is a fine balance between debating and fighting and it is a balance that every couple has to find.

love and war

 

(image courtesy of Google)

When they say all is fair in love and war, what they are really saying is – it has to be fair.  There are things everyone needs in their relationships and everyone’s needs are different.  You may need to feel supported or you may need to feel challenged, but everyone has a need.  It is up to you to figure out what your needs really are and, at the end of process, to be fair to your partner while fulfilling those needs.

I was talking to a good friend recently about what he needs and we talked about “the list” – taking the time to write the list of what is important to you in a relationship, what type of feedback matters to you and writing those needs on a piece of paper.  If you put those feelings out into the universe and let the world know what you need, it WILL find you.  And that is part of being fair to yourself.  Being fair to your partner comes as part and parcel of that relationship package.

It may seem trite, but if you can admit to yourself what is important to you, you have a much better chance of finding that partner that will possess all the things you need and will be fair in the love portion of your relationship as well as the war portion. Dialogue is crucial to a successful relationship.  That dialogue may be saturated with verbosity destined for a soap opera or it may be immersed in a battle fit for Judge Judy.  Regardless of the definition that banter needs to be suited to what you need in your life or it will never succeed as a relationship.

When you consider a potential partner, you need to assess what parts of love and what parts of war you require to make you content with that alliance. If you need that person to challenge your opinions, than find someone who will thrive on that debating process.  If you need to be supported and not challenged, than find a lover who will never second guess your intentions.  Ultimately you choose the person that is privileged enough to share your life.  Pick the piece that fits your puzzle.

What are the most important qualities you would put on your list?

I get by with a little help from my friends

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I have always been a very independent person. Even as a young child I would get angry when people tried to help me with things that were proving difficult for me. I seemed to get the sense, even at that tender stage of my life, that I was somehow failing if I couldn’t do it on my own.

Over the years I have been able to let some of that stubbornness go, not all of it, but enough to allow me to see how a helping hand can smooth the rough edges that I used to cut myself on repeatedly. As individuals, we are porous rocks. We are permeable and sometimes allow too many of the negative things in our life shape the person we become. We have bumps and impurities and we develop jagged edges to protect ourselves from unwanted encounters with anyone outside of our realm of comfort.

As we journey through life, we collect friends much like a beach collects grains of sand.  And akin to those grains of sand, our friends help smooth our rough edges.  They help transform that rough exterior and, with love and compassion, they help us to become more polished by eroding our jagged exterior and finding the beauty underneath.

smooth rock

(image courtesy of Google)

My beach stretches for miles.   The many grains of sand that comprise my shore come in all shapes and sizes and although some stay close to me and some remain on the periphery of my seascape they are all equally important parts of that beach.  I try to take as many long walks as possible along my shorelines and appreciate each grain of friendship in my life.  And though I may not make it to the outer boundaries very often, know that each of you, near or far, have contributed to the beauty of my shoreline.

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

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I’ve never been afraid of the water.  But perhaps after spending five years trying to calm the waves in my marriage I have been left with the slightest hesitation about diving back in.  Divorce can feel like a Tsunami, like the calm before the storm.  There is a sense of peace and strange tranquility and then the rush of emotion comes like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its path. And like the Tsunami, you know that wave is coming but it’s nearly impossible to get to a safe haven.

tsunami

(image courtesy of Google)

The dating pool, although seemingly non-threatening compared to the violent storm waves, beckons and standing on the edge of that pool is just as daunting as watching that tide surge forward.  The water may seem calm on the surface but the hidden dangers lie beneath that placid sheen and the potential for another storm gives me pause.  The slightest touch of the surface causes ripples and pushes me back from the edge of the pool.

I watch as the ripples dissipate.  The soft blue glow seems so inviting, but the dormant threat still lurks under the veil waiting to lure me closer to the edge, waiting to gently touch my skin and pull me under when I am blissfully unaware of the current below.  I can’t swim, not now.  Maybe sometime soon I will remember how wonderful it felt to float in that water, how comforting it was to be surrounded by its warmth and to feel buoyant.  Maybe soon, but not now.

I’m sure the water is fine, but I don’t think I’m ready yet to hold my breath and jump.  For now I’m content to sit on the edge of the pool and exhaust every argument in my head as to why I shouldn’t just take the plunge.

~

This was written for the Trifecta Challenge:
EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

Draped in his fabric

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Another post for Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday

blanket-logosmall

he covers me like a blanket

he wraps around my heart

as much as I pull and stretch his fabric

it never falls apart

he drapes over my shoulders

shielding me with his presence

warming every part of my being

comforting me with his essence

I fall into his softness

I feel safety in his shroud

I feel the heat beginning to burn

my murmurs breathed aloud

his touch rubs gently on my skin

every time is like the first

his voice falls like music on my ears

his groan a staccato burst

we lay together, wrapped again

his arms provide the veil

keeping me warm, keeping me safe

his blanket will never fail

 

Love Actually ~ Valentine edition

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There seems to be a common theme throughout the blogosphere surrounding the celebration of Valentine’s Day.  And until I re-read my thoughts and deleted the 500 +  words I had written on the subject of the commercialism of the day I would have written an entire post about the monetary veil that looms over this auspicious holiday.  But something changed.  The words I had composed left a bitter taste in my mouth and what I had written felt inappropriate in relation to the manifestation of my tumultuous emotions.

heart

(image courtesy of Google)

Don’t get me wrong…..I don’t hate Valentine’s Day. I, like so many of you, don’t believe in the hype of all the industry propagation that surrounds it.  Candy manufacturers and card makers jump at the chance to cover their windows with hearts and arrows to remind people to spend, spend, spend for their loved ones and money is discarded on items littered with hearts and oozing with sentiment written by the prolific writing staff at Hallmark.

In a moment of what can only be described as lucidity, I realized that there are many people walking the face of this planet who are unable to show their emotion as easily as I do.  There are many who do not feel as comfortable with the phrase ‘I love you’ and cannot utter it as often as they feel it is deserved and wanted.  In that moment, I understood that Valentine’s Day may be the one day that they can express their love through cards and flowers.  They are able to show the love they feel on a daily basis but are unable to articulate as often as they would like.  After years of being disgusted by the store displays enticing people to spend money, I got it.   Maybe the cards and candy hearts are the only way some can divulge their feelings without suffering the spontaneous embarrassment or discomfort of uttering those three words aloud.  Because I feel so comfortable sharing the emotion I have, it never dawned on me that others do not share that luxury and perhaps this day is their moment to shine.

Many people I know are far more fortunate and have displays of love bestowed on them quite frequently.  Ironically, Valentine’s Day is hijacked by those fortunate souls and held hostage with threats if they are not bathed in ornate displays of store-bought compensation.  They reside on a pedestal, but still hold their partner accountable for lavish gifts and dinner, negating the fact that they see more affection in a year than others are only privy to on a day that comes once a year.

I was watching Anderson Cooper last night and his co-host told a story that brought me to tears.  She read on the internet about a woman from Houston, TX who had been married for 46 years had always received a bouquet of flowers from her husband with a card that simply read “My love for you grows”.  Her husband passed  away and the following Valentine’s Day, the first one she would spend alone, she received a bouquet of flowers.  She was angry at first and called the florist to ask about the delivery and was told her husband had prepaid for that same bouquet to be delivered on Valentine’s Day for several years to come.  When she opened the card it read “My love for you is eternal”.  (yes, I’m crying)

Maybe I’m getting older, maybe I’m getting wiser or perhaps I had that moment where the lightbulb finally shone brighter than it ever has in regards to Valentine’s Day.  Whatever the case may be, these words from Henry David Thoreau ring true today ~ It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of the people in my life.  Whether in person or in words, you all inspire me.

Stolen Moments

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do-not-disturb-logosmall

This is another story written for Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday.

The first thing that struck her when she saw him was the depth of blue in his eyes.  She swam in the ocean of color before she was able to say hello and when she finally collected herself it seemed awkward, but only for a moment.  His smile and wit quickly reminded her what it was about him that had attracted her in the first place.  The embrace was slight but his kiss sent a shock through her system and she blushed.

Dinner began with a barrage of laughter and good friends talking about years gone by.  They stole a few glances at each other when they thought nobody would notice – his wink melted her.  She had expected nothing to happen since he had left his commitments behind, but only for a few precious days.  After dinner ended and the laughter subsided, the house fell silent.  She lay in her bed thinking about him, thinking about the time they had spent together in the past, in what felt like a different lifetime.  The tenderness and passion that seemed so natural between them lurked in her thoughts and danced like visions behind her eyelids.   She could still feel his breath on her body from those moments long ago.

The noise in the other room pulled her from her reverie.  She stole towards the distraction and saw him alone on the couch.  Tentatively she approached and was greeted with a warm smile and an invitation to join him.  His embrace was as she had remembered it so many times and she pulled herself closer into him. His arm wrapped around her and she stroked the hair on his chest.   The moment was idyllic.  No words were exchanged and none needed to be as they rose from the couch and he led her into the bedroom.  She lay on her stomach and he gently began to massage her shoulders.  His touch was electric and, yet, the softest touch she had ever felt.

Although still partially draped in clothing, their bodies began to move together.  She felt the heat from his breath before his lips touched her back.  His kiss was soft and sweet and she gasped in anticipation of having his mouth on hers.  She arched her back and turned to meet his lips.  Time stood still in those moments and they lost themselves in each other, he feeling her emotion and she feeling his pain. They both knew this shouldn’t be happening but neither of them had the will to stop. Their bodies moved rhythmically together and eventually they lay spent in each other’s arms, lost in the moment, lost in their thoughts.  He was the first to move and, as much as she hated it, she knew she should be back in her own room.  Nobody else could know the extent of their relationship.  Nobody could know of the passion so deep and so strong that it threatened to swallow her every time she saw him. He laid in bed with his eyes closed.  She leaned over and slowly let her lips trace the curve of his.  With a gentle whispered goodnight, she left him and closed the door.

The next morning, there was no awkwardness, only longing.  She wanted to embrace him, but would have to settle for a hidden trace of his finger along her arm.  He winked and her heart warmed.  One by one their friends emerged from behind different doors, coffee was poured and the day was planned. She sat with the group at the table, staying as close to him as possible and she longed to touch him.

After a day of great adventures, darkness descended, stars filled the sky and the wine flowed freely.  Conversations and laughter were caught on the breeze and carried infectiously around the lake.  Although the rest of the group had gathered by the fire, only four of them stayed by the edge of the water staring wordlessly into the night sky.  Dusk had long descended and the darkness enveloped them, but she could feel his stare.  Neither of them spoke as the group made their way back from the lake.  The flashlight beamed in front of them but they held back behind the other two by a few precious feet.  In the darkness she felt his hand reaching for hers.  Their hands clasped with such ferocity she thought she might lose feeling in her fingers but she wasn’t letting go.  Light filtered onto the path ahead of them signaling the closeness of the cottage and their hands reluctantly parted.   Their friends took chairs by the fire and he headed towards the cottage, his eyes asking her to follow.  She found him in his room and curled up beside him.

His lips met hers in the dark.  Sweet, tender kisses were shared, his embrace was comforting and everything about being with him just felt right.  If only things could be different.  If only these stolen moments weren’t the thoughts in her head every day knowing he would never be hers.

Forever – A Romantic Monday Post

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She sat with her knees drawn to her chest watching the setting sun reflecting on the water.    As day gave way to dusk, the horizon hungrily devoured the sun leaving behind a mélange of blood-red and fire-orange dripping onto the waves.    His arms were wrapped around her and she could hear his breathing, rhythmic and calming  as he lowered his chin to her shoulder.  The waves eagerly lapped at the rocky shoreline, undulating their anchored kayaks with each ripple.

Sunset

She let her head fall back onto him and inhaled deeply, savoring the pungent aroma of the smoke from the fire and letting it permeate her nostrils.  He kissed her shoulder and got up from behind her.  The moon had snuck up on the treeline and had begun to immerse itself in the night sky.  The rock was illuminated by its brilliance and she turned to see where he had gone.  He stood stoking the fire and she watched the sparks as they circled his body.  She rolled onto her stomach, gazed at his face in the fire light and thought about how he enriched her life.  She couldn’t imagine being without him and if time stood still, this would be the moment she would choose to freeze.

He laid down beside her and she curled into him.  The wind tickled them as it playfully seduced their skin. The sounds of the night had returned to serenade them and the damp smell of the campfire continued to saturate the air.  She could hear the waves teasing the shoreline,  the amplified song of the frogs rippling in on the breeze and their boats harmoniously lapping at the water.   She lifted her head and found him staring up at the night sky.  Following his gaze, she become aware of the stars that had appeared in clusters and were dancing among the surging patches of Northern Lights.   They lay in each other’s embrace, lulled by the sounds of nature and gently soothed by the luminescence of the sky.  As the waning glow of the fire cast small shadows around them he reached behind him, pulling a blanket to cover them and she nestled deeper into his arms.

The moon continued its voyage through the sea of Northern Lights and they lay in silence, cloaked in each other’s embrace.   She felt his lips on her forehead just as he slid the ring onto her finger.  No words needed to be spoken.  She lifted her head from his chest and he watched the single tear trace the curve of her cheek.  She would be his forever.

Another post inspired by Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday.

One Day – Weekly Challenge

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This story was written for the Weekly Challenge based on the photo below.

couple-embrace

Photo courtesy of Cheri Lucas.

One day someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked out with anyone else.  The small plaque etched with those words seemed to burn the phrase into her hand.  She read the words repeatedly as if creating the mantra in her head.  Her thumb continually grazed over the profoundly meaningful sentence.

With her culinary degree in one hand and a collection of personal items she had kept at the school in her other hand, Audrey stepped into the street car for the last ride back to her flat.  She marveled at the warmth of the day as she watched the now familiar buildings pass by her window. Studying in a foreign country had been a daunting task, but one she threw herself into with great passion.

The street car wove its way along the tracks, stopping precisely on time at each stop.  He entered the car, lost in a sea of tourists, so she didn’t notice him immediately.  The group’s constant chatter seemed to rise and fall like a wave throughout the car, drowning all other sounds as they excitedly took in the sights.

Moments after the car had continued its journey, his voice rose above the tumult of the excited tour group and she caught brief strains of the song he was absent-mindedly singing aloud.  He was completely absorbed in his newspaper, his head phones drowning out the cacophony of the outside world, but she could decipher lines from the song Foolish Heart by Steve Perry. Although his song choice came as a surprise to her, the words fell gently on her ears and she leaned into his melody, closing her eyes to focus only on the sound of his voice.

The street car stopped and her eyes fluttered open.  Any noise in the street car had been extinguished and she felt his gaze on her before she looked up to meet his stare.  No words were spoken.  She smiled demurely and lowered her head slightly, embarrassed to be so caught up in his gaze.  The words of the song found her ears again and he continued to serenade her on the street car. She met his eyes once more and they remained locked on each other until he finished the song.

The feeling of floating was interrupted as the ride seemed to come to an abrupt stop and the tour group exited the car.  He looked longingly at her, smiled and left the street car, paper in hand and humming another tune.  The street car lurched forward, but she knew she couldn’t remain on the car and just let him walk away.

“Wait”, her voice penetrated the air and the street car stopped.  She gathered her bag and her diploma and jumped onto the street.  He had a head start, but she caught up to him and tapped his shoulder.  He turned with a startled expression that warmed without hesitation when he realized it was her.  Not a word was spoken as she fell into him.  His arms circled around her and they stood motionless.

As the street car finally gained momentum up the hill, the plaque remained on the seat where she had been only moments ago.  Someday, someone else would need to read those words, but her one day was today.

A Piece of Her Heart

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Edward Hotspur’s Romantic Monday always seems to bring out the poet in me.

passion-logo

The heat of his touch sent shivers as he traced the curve of her spine.

The lasting sensation of the tingling desire,  never would leave her mind.

The softness of his lips on hers, the warm sweet smell of his breath,

the longing look in his deep blue eyes, the sensual feel of his caress.

He moves with her in a rhythm like the waves upon the sea,

seeming to be one, and yet, what one can never be.

He explores her soul, for which it seems, is paired with his alone,

on a journey of erotic pleasures, to a destination unknown.

The intensity of his closeness, the gentle stroking of her skin,

she feels an energy like never before, releasing from within.

She is his tonight and his alone, for now, for tomorrow, for time.

The love they make, the tenderness they share, will forever be their bind.

As the sun awakens to extinguish the dark, she clings to the memory of the night,

the feeling of togetherness, the feelings they share, the feeling of being so right.

He is a part of her now, a piece of her heart, beating in time with her own,

he is the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, her music of beautiful tone.

Never will she feel alone for he is living inside of her heart.

His gentle touch, his wink, his smile reassure her they never will part.