She sat on the veranda with her glass of wine, staring at the leaves on the trees, content to listen to the noises of the neighborhood until her mind took back over with thoughts of doubt and fear.
Does she love him? If she tells him, will it matter? What if he doesn’t love her back?
She has loved before. When she loves, she loves deeply. She means it.
She has heard the words from men before. Did they know what they were doing when they said the words but did not back them up with their actions? One man used “But, I love you,” as an apology of sorts for his bad behavior. Another eventually said the words only as a rope thrown for her to catch after he distanced himself, in hopes that she still believed. She also loved a man who would only say the words as a reciprocation, she hoped that he would somehow find his way through it, but it was not meant to be.
Now she questions her feelings, her motivations. Some days the process of thinking through all the possible scenarios and outcomes is likely more painful and exhausting than what could happen in real life if she was brave enough to speak her mind.
The good news is that she understands now, after all this time, that she is lovable. She can be loved. She is worthy of love. She deserves love. Perhaps she finally loves herself. Perhaps she is now fiercely protecting that which she loves. Recovery is a slower process each time her heart is broken. What if she reveals her heart and finds herself in a daze from the letdown, feeling like she’s falling out of the plane without a parachute knowing she will be broken when she hits the ground, but still be expected to get up and keep going? What if she exposes her heart and receives love back? What if she invests in a relationship, having high hopes for success, but is always wondering when she’ll be pushed out of the plane?
The leaves gently dance in the breeze. The birds flutter about and chatter. Perhaps they sing about the lady on the veranda. Do they know she limps from the crashes, but still thinks and hopes about love? Maybe that is why she looks up at the sky, the tall trees with dancing leaves, and the ballet of birds to and fro…because hope floats, as they say. Hope is unsinkable, even when we are so weighed down with fear it feels like we can never come up for air. Just keep breathing. Just keep swimming. Please keep hoping.