I was going through some old photos on Friday looking for a picture of Brent’s old Toyota MR2 to show to August just how cool is Dad was/is. Unfortunately, I didn’t find the picture, so I guess I’ll have to prove it to him some other way. I’m sure I’ll think of something….
But what I did find were some pictures of old boyfriends; I found pictures of boyfriends from high school and college. As I was looking through these photos and thinking about my old love for them, I realized something. It seems as though with every new person you love, you actually love them differently than the one before. In other words, every love is unique. I had never thought about this before, but I think it’s true. I have my love for August, my love for Brent, my love for my family, and it’s all a different kind of love.
I think in my lifetime, I have been “in love” four times in total. There was my first love sophomore year in high school. My parents ripped us apart when we moved away from Houston. I remember the airplane ride to our new home. I sat there on the four plus hour plane ride thinking about how I was going to get back to him, and how I never wanted to be apart from him. I didn’t know how to breathe without him. I thought about how I would go to school in Texas just to be with him. Six months later, I met love number two. This love was a crazy kind of love. We were extremely dependent on each other. We never did anything without the other, and my parents hated him. After two years of a very extreme love, I decided that I shouldn’t go to college where he was going. Our relationship didn’t feel healthy, so it ended. Well, it sort of ended. It took some time for it to REALLY be over, but it did eventually end.
Next came love number three. Wow, this one was a doozie. It came out of nowhere, my junior year in college. I met him while becoming a Resident Assistant at college. He was dating someone else, but he was charming, funny, cute, smart, and best of all blond hair blue-eyed. I’m a sucker for blond hair, blue eyes. He continued to date the other girl for a while, but then one day he wasn’t, and he was all mine. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. I literally worshiped the ground he walked on; everything he did was perfect. We loved each other for a few years, but then one day, he wasn’t perfect, and I saw him for who he was – just another guy. And that too was over.
My last love is the kind of love that I don’t worship, fear, or suffocate over. It’s the kind of love that I feel lucky every day to have. My love for Brent changes, and grows stronger and bigger every day (well, almost). Our love has been growing for over two decades now. We started as friends, and we became husband and wife. It took us FOREVER to get here, but we made it. I’m glad that love is unique. Imagine how boring life would be if it were all the same?
