The Quiet Consistency of Love
On coming back to life
Like all the good things in my life, the best love that has ever been shows up completely by happenstance; it doesn’t announce its arrival with a loud knock.
In fact, it yet has to introduce itself by name and I don’t expect it ever will because it is humble and self-effacing to a fault yet feisty when need be.
I find the best love that has ever been hidden between the lines, a presence elusive at first yet more and more tangible with every word. It is never what’s on the page you want to pay attention to but what isn’t. For every word that makes it into print, many more lie in wait, ready to pounce and provide context, so much context you would never be able to process it in one go.
Or even a lifetime.
Had my heart and mind ever sat down and tried to figure out the best love that has ever been they would have started with words. I had to surrender to a new language to understand them, until my heart spoke it fluently.
To the point it would never once again function normally without it; I know because I spent years trying to forget.
My heart and mind would have led me on a wild chase from one continent to another and back, from one country to the next and to the next and to the one after that.
But only after they stalled when I was supposed to be living the best years of my life, years they spent conspiring to kill me.
Like all the good things in my life, the best love that has ever been makes itself at home slowly; it doesn’t move in one day, it keeps moving in.
In fact, it yet has to figure out set geographical coordinates and I don’t expect it ever will because it is always in several places at the same time.
I find the best love that has ever been hidden within the minutiae of every day, omnipresent. It is resolve that became a habit, clandestine gentleness beneath a cloak of pragmatism.
To cherish, nurture, and protect this love is an honor and an irreversible commitment; you defend it and fight for it whenever you feel the urge to run. Do not deliberately neglect, endanger, or seek to destroy that which you have been graciously allowed to rebuild.
Whatever it takes, make it happen; it’s as much a fluke as you still being around to live it.
Like all the good things in my life, the best love that has ever been is impervious to doubt; even when faced with adversity, it doesn’t falter but grows stronger.
In fact, it yet has to question itself and I don’t expect it to because it is self-evident and natural. It is to the heart and mind what breathing is to the body.
I find the best love that has ever been hidden within the effluvia of pain, the tears that sometimes come when language fails. It is fearless vulnerability that stands proud and holds on even when it would be so much easier to quit and run.
This love endures, this love forgives, this love informs everything.
With thanks to Jonathan Greene for reminding me of quiet consistency. The words of others often inspire our own, that’s the magic of interconnectedness.
I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor living out of a suitcase in transit between the US and the EU. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.