I had several ideas for this post. Intriguing, amusing, thoughtful ideas, all jostling for space and attention in my head, slyly shoving each other while smiling broadly at the camera, vying to be chosen as the post winner.
Then, in a huge explosion of emotional glitter and figurative fireworks, I read this post.
I cannot – for the life of me – remember any of my post ideas. Not one.
Dinner has been late every night. I’ve meant to have this post up days ago, but… well… haven’t.
I’m not myself. Thankfully, not one person has had a problem with my errant actions or lack of concentration. Because, it turns out, nobody has noticed.
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There are so many parts of a “love story”. All the firsts that are encountered, fumbled, missed, celebrated – the first meeting, the first date, first kiss, first fight, first time “I knew”. The ebb and flow of lives and souls towards each other and away, the distractions, hazards and antagonists that cause the wary or oblivious heart to stumble and bruise – all combine to make each love story unique.
I like asking people about how they met their partners/spouses/boyfriends. I’m fascinated by which movies or characters, books or music people find beautiful. The variations in what is seen to be romantic is astonishing, as is the difference in dating habits among people I know. Hollywood certainly knows the allure of a love story, though what I class as excellent love stories (I am Sam, Family Stone and Jane Eyre for example) may not follow the same formula or be what you classify as love stories – but they are love stories to me.
I now have a love story/blog to follow. It’s still being written, with luminous ink freshly splashed over the astonished, blooming chambers of Mara's heart.
What’s yours?
