My therapist said my homework the next two weeks is to write down what love is. I used to think love was friendship caught on fire. But then shit burnt to the ground. I honestly am sitting here drinking a beer with my feet up and I am clueless. You see, how would I know? If I knew what it was would I be here alone? I guess that’s possible. Knowing something doesn’t just mean it will pop up in your life.

I’ve heard people say it happens when you least expect it but on the few times I wondered if it could be love, the unexpected gave me a slap to the face. Others try to make it sound rational and that there is a formula to love. Is it like cooking and there is a recipe to follow? A cup of this and a teaspoon of that and viola you have it?! Honest to God, I’m confused y’all. Is it still love even if it isn’t reciprocated?

Sometimes I think love you give is proportionate to the love you have for yourself. I wasn’t allowed to be “me” in my marriage much so I think the ultimate love is to let someone be whoever they are. That’s an act of courage. To know they might change their mind and go another direction. But how do you reconcile the pain when it’s gone? You look inside you and remind yourself quietly, without going crazy, that life goes on? Tell yourself by the person being honest you are freed by the truth? Does it ever die even after their gone? I love some people who are passed away, that love never died. Of course I mean Kim mostly. I remember her telling me about a goat one day in high school. I was all punk rock with the Sex Pistols and rips in my jeans and here we were having this conversation, her in cowboy boots. Two opposites who loved just hearing about each other when we could. I think that’s one of the last things we ever said to each other. It was by the commons. I still see her standing by the library window. That must have been at the end of junior year.

And today, I weep because she is gone. Just like it happened yesterday. It took me three tries to type “yesterday” just now because of tears. That’s love. It took 15+ years to learn to live with that love being gone. Life didn’t show me how much I loved until she was gone. Part of me went too. No doubt.

I recently dated a guy who reminds me of home. People sometimes say love is like that too–coming home, ya know? For some reason Kim always drifts to my mind for just a flicker when he’s around. I can’t explain that to you at all. Why is it? Because the last person I loved who wore cowboy boots died? That’s kinda weird, but I am at a loss on why else that would happen. Aside from Kim he reminds me of driving down country roads and everyone waved at each other. No one waves at each other here. Why the hell aren’t people waving?! He’s a weird mix of coming home and going on a limb. I liked that. I will miss that. He reminded me of home because home is the place you can try new things and always know someone is there to catch you. You can make it on your own just fine. I do it everyday. But home is that place where you get to look at someone else’s crazy and know you’re part of them. Hell, home is when you know you drive the other people crazy!!! Maybe that’s love….
To be continued.