romantic

I remember it, so well. Those moments of spin and wild, the light in another’s eyes, the thrill which began in my toes and was the only thing that, or is it which, moved up my legs to the beyond. The belly thrill, the lightening of my heart, the overspill in my face, lips curving up until they almost made a circle, I remember it so very well. I’m not sure I see it around me anymore. Oh, I see couples, a lot, in the cafe, and there is ‘game on’ fun with some, but there seems to be an awful lot of functionality. A kind of this is how we are now, after all this time.

I know I am a real romantic. I am. I want a man to take me dancing, to swing me. However, this is not on offer. Is romance dying? I hope not. In my very early teenage years, there seemed to be plenty of it, it was the way of the day. No girl would accept less than a door being opened for her, a protective arm around her in an awkward situation, a coat offered in the cold, a lift home, and respect for her girlhood. I honestly believe that still lives on, but what may not is the man in this mix, the boy who wants to be a protector, a respecter, because he is unsure about the who of him in this culture of Big Man, all muscles and the filling in of the doorway.

omance,alive,My point is this. Romance is not old, not dead, but in us all. We just let it fizzle out as the demands of earning, fear of loss, parental pressure and more, overkill the light maker in us. And the demands do it well, they always have and over many many years. There is a fight ahead, and if any of us seriously believe that life from now is not a fight, then the any will fall away. We are up against a lot more than we understand. Romance is ours, so lovely, so light, so glorious, so thrilling,

My sister and her husband began with romance. They still dance, they still romance after decades. It’s possible, and for all of us. The functional sensible in you just needs oiling.

There is a valentine in all of us, even the most cynical cynic, even there. Not one living soul on this planet would say that a show of love doesn’t touch a heart. It always matters. It can come with flowers, a card, or a romantic getaway date. It can come inside a hospital ward with a hand held tight. It is there in the eyes of the forgiver and the forgiven. It lifts like sunshine into an ice wind, melting, softening, kinding. It says I see you, and you matter to me. A glance can send love, a smile, a pause to talk. We remember such times and they warm us with a memoric hug as we step back into old shoes and new rain. Love is love and we all need to see it and feel it.

As life batters us, drawing the skin across our bones and flabbing our bellies, the roses, the card and the romantic getaway may lie in our past. But love doesn’t. Thankfully we can show love anytime we so choose. Although in our emotionally strangled country we make a BIG POINT about the difference between love and like, there is no difference at all. A kindly word to a harassed ticket collector on the commuter train is showing love; a knock on our frail old neighbour’s door to ask if she needs anything from the shop is showing love. A jump to arms if someone is in trouble – that’s showing love too. Giving time to someone when we think our 24 hours are already solidly booked – that’s love. There are as many ways to love as there are people on the planet and the source is an everlasting spring, one that no drought can turn to dust.

St Valentine served the needy and the sick. I doubt that was always fun. In the end he was martyred for it and that thinks me. Showing unconditional love bothers folk. He must be up to something. Nobody can give love all of the time. Oh, really? Giving love is not being perfect. We can still snap and crackle, shout and lose the plot; we can still regret, deny and blame; in other words, we can still be who we are, but feel differently about ourselves. Giving love to everyone we know and randomly meet does not mean great displays of affection that might lead to arrest. It doesn’t mean that someone who never hugged has to learn how to. There are many other ways. Kindness, compassion, time given, a helping hand, a smile, a compliment, an acknowledgement that this other person matters, even if I never see him or her again. And the way I feel after giving such a gift……what is that sunshine warmth inside me? Well, it’s love. When I break out of my selfish little life to show another that I see them, that they are important, no matter who and no matter where, I am changed inside.

And I can break out right now.