there was a stolen hour when i was in boston a week ago. an hour in which i found myself on a bench in boston commons sitting next to one of my oldest friends. we sat, the two of us, dark, green wood beneath us, looking out over children and their families, young couples, and the ever present waddle of the ducks.
i was fourteen when i fell half-in-love with sam. he was seventeen and, heaven help me, did he seem old and wise. i was out of my depth around him. knee-deep in wonder and hormones and absolute amazement.
we have lived countless lives since that summer so many years ago. the two of us. we've each lived countless lives in opposite directions.
but just over a week ago, on a bench in a park, in a place called boston we sat and spoke. of all that we know and don't know. all that we've learned and are just now waking to.
mostly of love. of how terribly hard it is. and how terribly painful it is. and why, oh why do people the world over subject themselves to it's brutal whims and terrifying fancies again. and again. and again?
because it's deliriously good. that's what we decided. because of just how delicious it can be--if only for a short time.
we spoke of the beginning of it. of how you can barely look at the person for fear of being found out. and the end of it. of how you can barely look at the person for fear of... being. found. out.
and sam teased me. asked if i still doodled my name across notebooks with the surnames of all the men, the world over, i'd ever been to afraid to look at? and i laughed. tilted my head a little and laughed. no, no of course not. that's not to say i haven't thought about my name next to his. and his. and his and his.
and do you know what sam did in that moment? he didn't make the expected comment about girls and their nonsense, he just leaned back against the bench, took in the water before us, appraised the park in which he'd spent so much of childhood, and said, it's hard for us--us hopeless romantics, isn't it?
and i smiled. fell half in love with him all over again and thought, certainly, it is.
and if i wasn't tethered to sam before, i am now. for that moment--that one right there. that simple moment of absolute inclusion when somehow, i least expected it.
and even if it is hard, and it is, certainly, i wouldn't change it. not for anything.
we're a band of thieves, us hopeless romantics. stealing the world of all its very best love.
34 comments:
sigh.
i love this.
♥elisabeth
Can I just saw that I really, really love your writing? Your last few posts (and all of them really) have been so beautiful.
I LOVE this. (But when don't I love what you write?) You're definitely blessed with a gift, my friend. Oh! And I'm glad you were okay with my stealing your "Date a Girl" post for my blog. :) Brilliance like that must be shared!
Gosh, Meg. This is just it. It is hard--but it's delightful every once in a while to be in the band of thieves.
"we're a bad of thieves, us hopeless romantics. stealing the world of all its very best love."
i die.
lovely.
Oh, so lovely.
Your words literally gave me goosebumps.
Because I know. Man, do I know.
"we spoke of the beginning of it. of how you can barely look at the person for fear of being found out. and the end of it. of how you can barely look at the person for fear of... being. found. out."
Amazing Meg!
sigh. is right. love. the best, the worst. and the real thing in this life.
You've got it. Spot. On.
i swear you know just exactly what to say when i'm feeling a certain way. i sometimes think you're writing this directly to me, because this is exactly what i needed to here. isn't it funny how love can be the best and worst things that ever happen to you?
how simple and complicated at the same time, love. Very nice Meg!
loved this post, i am also a hopeless romantic so i completely get it...sam sounds like your soul mate, go snatch him!
When I saw your title I thought oh she slept on a park bench. But then I remembered you are civilized unlike me. Totally did that, check out my post. I have no shame!
Love your writing. Lovely as always!
You brought tears to my eyes--and no, I am not surprised by this. You do so frequently.
Sam sounds like a good guy--a kindred spirit of yours (which instantly, instantly makes him a good guy). I am glad you had that conversation, that stolen moment, that snatch of your two lives assimilating again.
I know I've applauded your writing many times before but this... this one is different. I could see your face as you thought "...being. found. out." and the way you tilted your head a little and laughed. For someone who is so poised and chooses her words so carefully, you are also so brave in the way you leave your heart open and exposed through your writing. It's a contradiction, but a most impressive and admirable one. I've only spent time with you in person twice but you left enough of an impression on me that posts like this draw me in. I find myself waiting anxiously to discover what happens next, rooting for you, getting choked up at the thought of you feeling that bond with Sam. You're such a lovely person, Meg, and this was just beautifully written.
such an amazing read. you were so open, so honest, so hopelessly romantic. sigh
I think some of the best thoughts/conversations come from sitting on a bench. It's the perfect setting.
I agree where you said you wouldn't change it. Even though I sometimes think the hopeless romantic in me gets hurt more often than not, I like to believe that somewhere down the road it will be worth it. It has to be.
Lovely and honest.
Add my name to the list of people who love this post. And Sam...
Just gorgeous. I like that I'm not the only person who's hopelessly romantic!
I've decided I'm going to start quoting you, just like you quote great writers. You, my dear, are a great writer too.
As soon as you resolve to accepting being a hopeless romantic. of being alone, someone like you comes into the picture and puts a voice to all hopes and dreams. All my hearts deepest aches, longings. You come and I no longer feel as hopeless, as alone.
Oh Meg, I wish one day to sit beside you on a bench somewhere and speak of love, life, and everything in between.
oh, us hopeless romantics. what are we gonna do.
This touched my heart in a thousand ways. I love these types of conversations with friends: and I love love, the amazing, terrible, awe-inspiring thing that it is.
The lines about "being found out," and your closing line were especially breath taking for me.
I hate to sound redundant by saying this over and over again, but your writing amazes me over and over again.
meg, i adore your writing. it sometimes puts my thoughts into words, and more. because it expounds and explains what i'm feeling. keep writing, and keep keeping your head up. thanks for the inspiration.
leighana
Aha! I just vocaroo'd you and I love it! NOT the way it sounded in my head, I'll admit.... it took me by surprise at first. But I found myself smirking and grinning at the expression in your voice..... surely at things I missed at first read.
I've got to do this..... except I'm not wise or contemplative. I'm snarky. It could be fun!
I cannot wait until you find the perfect boy. He will have to be pretty amazing to deserve someone like you. :) and again, thanks for the comment. :) I like to know people are enjoying what I put up, whether it be my writing or my music. You are awesome.
you should write a book. it will sell like hot cakes :)
great post!
Wow. You are amazing. Write a book please!
Whenever you get tired of being a hopeless romantic because it's leading you into too much poetry and dreams and too little genuine human interaction (I've been there), check this website out: http://loveaddicts.org/
The program changed my life and lead me to find actual true love instead of the dramatic, fleeting, unstable kind I'd been fantasizing about.
love.
and more sighs.
Seriously. "We're a band of theives, us hopeless romantics, stealing the world of all its very best love." I just want to frame everything you write.
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