On my birthday, I was approached by a guy who walked up to me and asked “Is your husband African?”. “My future husband, maybe”, I replied mischievously. “Then it’s going to be me”, he said. And I kept thinking that, if we were to end up together, that would be the absolute best “How I met your mother” story to tell our children.
But there’s a far better love story I want to tell my children about, and it started on Friday, March 24th 2017, at around 2 P.M. It is the story of how I learned to love unconditionally, and have never stopped since. His middle name translated as “Perfect”, and that is what I always considered him to be, flaws and all.
What makes this story so great? The fact that it’s real. Raw, authentic, inspiring, life-giving, disturbing, uncomfortable, mind-blowing, heart-breaking. It is the sharing that happened, between two souls that were suddenly thrown together, in a dance of mutual exploration, questioning, understanding, teaching, completing, supporting, enrichment.
In my humble opinion, one of the greatest challenges a woman must face when interacting with a man, is that of feeling comfortable around him, whether in being a supportive friend in time of need, in having endless conversations about mutual interests; in being unapologetically honest and blunt about her personal truths; in admitting her mistakes and apologising; in clearly and accurately assessing her worth; in not feeling the need to fill the silence with words; in peacefully drifting asleep, feeling safe in his arms; in not religiously shaving her legs before meeting him; in cooking a lovely dinner together; in going on trips and adventures, a photo camera in the hand; in attending concerts, horse races, football matches, wine tastings together; in crying of frustration and helplessness in each other’s arms; in having her heart stolen by his every smile; in surrendering her body, her heart, her very soul during lovemaking, in an act of complete trust and love; in allowing him to feast his senses on her pleasure and extasy.
Nevertheless, any good love story comes to a bittersweet end. The story ends where fear begins. The story ends where hesitation begins. The story ends where distance begins. The story ends where denial begins. The story ends where rejection begins. The story ends where struggle begins. The story ends where hopelessness begins.
But love doesn’t end. It continues to grow, continues to challenge, continues to teach, continues to carve its way through obstacles, like spring water, never stopping, never doubting, never questioning, never abandoning, never quitting, never failing, never hurting. And I am forever grateful to this beautiful man, for having transformed my heart into spring of love.
Love doesn’t happen in a specific place, at a specific time. It happens on every second, of every hour, of every day, for a year, or 50, or a lifetime, or an eternity. It happens in every thought, in every breath, in every heartbeat, in every conscious or unconscious gesture, in every memory, in every glimpse of hope, in every goal. Thus, life itself becomes a permanent act of worship of Love, an oath by which one soul deliberately decides to keep Love alive, to not shy away, to not fear, to not shut itself from the ever-flowing power and blessing of Love.
And now, I wish you all to experience love as ground-breaking, soul-awakening, heart-opening, up-lifting, life-changing as that which I have experienced, because having the wisdom, the courage, the madness to love someone so deeply turns life into a wonderful journey.
Love,
Vladiana
Love Labourer 