Young and old love

I saw a sneak preview of the movie "Valentine's Day" on Monday. It's not going to win any awards, but it wasn't bad, either. It weaves the lives of many different people together and represents many different...versions of love. I really could have done without Taylor Swift and Taylor Lautner's sappy, hormonal high school romance, though. Taylor Swift's (lack of) acting abilities and the character itself annoyed me almost equally. As they say in the movie, "Young love--full of hope, full of promise, and ignorant of reality." I just don't get it, probably because I never let myself go to that extreme. I've always been an "old soul," really, and as far back as I can remember, I thought that kind of whirlwind romance was silly and just not my style. It always seemed like something that could start so strong so quickly was built on a weak foundation and was bound to collapse almost as quickly. That's a drop in the bucket to me, because I know love can be so much more than that. You can't truly love someone until you really know them, anyway, and personally, I think knowing someone really well takes longer than a few weeks or even a few months. Emotion tempered with reason can still be love--in fact, I don't trust anything else with the term.

Some people say that true love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. Many people learn this the hard way, I think, but for some reason it feels like I have always known that. "Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being 'in love' which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two." -St. Augustine

Actually, I must have unconsciously learned this from my parents. They're having their 30th anniversary in a few months and I think they actually get along better now that my sister and I are out of the house. They never had the "banners and flashing lights," the extravagant displays of emotion, but they have always seemed to have an unspoken understanding and acceptance of each other. They don't really have much in common, either, but somehow they complement each other and make it work. They share a quiet companionship. I'm sure that sounds horribly boring and old-fashioned to some, but I actually think that kind of acceptance and devotion should be what we are all striving for. Sure, it's not always easy and exciting, but my impression is that it's worth it. I don't think I've ever stopped to appreciate all of this until just now. Wow.

Hmm, well...anything I might say after that would seem inconsequential, so I guess I will just leave it at that, for your consideration.