a lovely, young, german fellow has been staying in the apartment the last few days.
a friend of a friend, we offered him housing for this part of his trip.
he'd been planning to come to the east coast for quite some time and was meant to be accompanied by his girlfriend, but as he said, we broke.
they broke it.
i marvel at these words. this language. and wonder if it's ever been so succinctly--so perfectly put. if truer, more piercing words exist to describe the end of...well, whatever it is that ends. because often it's not love. nor the individual. it's the time and the place and the tennuous meeting of...well, of whatever it is that meets.
i think back on all those great loves in my life. and of all the times i broke it. not very many, as it turns out. and of the times it broke before it even began. was i meant to fight for it? to stake a claim? to simply ask?
i don't think so. because i was so close to breaking, myself.
and i did. and i broke. and i needed to break. by myself. alone.
and i'm so glad that i did. because i love how i've managed to put myself back together. my beautiful humpty-dumpty fault lines both hidden and exposed, creating texture and life.
but now i wonder if it's too late to ask? to say yes, i loved you, i love you, and i refuse to let you break this. or if you do, i come bearing super-glue.
i do believe in marriage and i marvel at people's amazement of that--because don't we all? or at least, don't we all want to?
i believe no more courageous of an act exists. the last, great form of rebellion as liz gilbert pointed out her second book, committed.
i don't know if it's possible. life-long love and commitment--the kind that never breaks. after all, we are human. but know this: i believe that things once broken can be restored. and i wake each morning with a humble thanks for that very fact.