It really does seem like the one thing, the one true thing is love.
The magic of the chemical reaction. The knowledge that someone cares beyond a shadow of a shadow of a doubt. The feeling that no matter where you are, no matter what has occured, that love will prevail and save the day.
It’s all we have, really–the slippery feeling that can rise and fall like the Roman empire. And even if it can’t be pinned down, made to stay ignited at its highest flame, it always leaves behind reminders and remnants and lofty lessons that won’t be, can’t be erased, because these little bits are the bits that make you the person who you become.
Sometimes it’s fickle, and cruel, and earth shatteringly heartless, but even then, its teachings serve a purpose you will understand as the clock ticks.
The truest of love, though, will endure like cement, like a Redwood, like the ocean. It will act like a life raft, it will percolate and bubble by your side, and in your heart. It will pull you along when you’re stuck in the mud, and lift you higher when you’re already in flight. Its spark can light you up within. And that spark, that unexplainable feeling that gives us courage, allows us to reach higher and go deeper, to believe in ourselves with no doubts, that thing that is unbreakable and sturdy, and inexplicable, that thing in all its various shapes and colors, will always, always, deliver us home.
