I am a lucky dude- am blessed in love, and I’am lucky to hear so many love stories confided in me. I’am the Santa Claus of love expected and returned, the lone observer who stands at the very edge of the beach- catching the last fancy of a dying wave. Love stories are drawn to me, like greenery to moist land. The connection is as natural as the seasons and time.
Right now, the most interesting love story I’am witness to isn’t my own. It’s a hopelessly hopeful tale- of people, choices and the general reluctance to take chances. Love, I’ve learned, is not about the happy times- it’s about the multitude of crappy hours that separate these hopeful periods. Like oasis in a scorching desert, hope is all that we can feel. And then voila…hope is shattered!!
This story, as seen by the untrained eye will meet the obvious end. Tears and aching hearts. However, what if we closed our eyes for a minute, and let that inner voice guide us, nurture us. In that case, this story will have a happy ending, a beacon that will be seen by others adrift in the oceans of uncertainty, with gratitude and longing.
There is afterall, a happy ending for all of us. I sincerely believe that.