Art and the philosophy of life

“Tell me about the love of your life,” said Marcy.  “I never had that kind of passionate love.  I married to get out of the house.  He was a couple of years older than I was and I thought he was a good choice.  I was wrong.”

“Big time.”

“When my mother died, I found my wedding pictures.  She cut his face out of every single photo.”

“Smart woman, your mother.”

The laughed and started eating their blueberry pie and ice cream.

“I had two loves of my life.”

“Of course you did,” sighed Marcy.  “Why am I not surprised?”

“I was married to the love of my life, in this lifetime.”

“I know that.  So, who was the other one?” said Marcy.

“Many years ago, I was in a brand new, tiny, well-lit bookstore.”

“Big surprise,” shorted Marcy.

“The shelving units were very low.   Anyone could see over them.  Anyway, I was looking at a book, but felt a strong urge to look up.  The guy in the next aisle was staring at me.  Everything in me immediately reacted to him.  I knew him.  I loved him.  We were happy somewhere.  In another lifetime, I guess, but we knew each other.   Who knows what the relationship had been, siblings, friends, lovers.  Could have been anything, but I was loved him completely.”

“These things never happen to me.  Why do these things never happen to me?”

“Because you never go into bookstores, that’s why.”

“Good point.  Please continue.”

“He looked as surprised as I felt.  We smiled at each other then, still grinning, he looked down, and shook his head, as if what was happening shouldn’t be happening.  We stared at each other for a minute or two, smiling and communicating through our expressions, then we nodded at each other and went on our way.  I’m not wrong about this, Marcy.  It was like seeing someone I loved but hadn’t seen for a very long time.  Someone I didn’t realize I even missed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

“I just thought of him today, when a song triggered the memory.   Even now, after all these years, just thinking about him, makes me happy.”

“And you never said a word to each other?”

“We didn’t have to.”

“I hate you,” said Marcy, scrapping her plate with her fork.  “Reallllllly hate you.  I would have tackled him.”

“I’m just glad I got to see him.”

“It’s going to be hard for me to hang out in bookstores, since they’re all gone.”

“That’s true.”

“You should have told me about bookstores before.”

“I did.”

“I still hate you.”

“I know.  It’s okay.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad you don’t know his name.”

“It doesn’t matter.  It was just one of those extraordinary moments.”

 

 

Comments on: "A Short story…passion, surprises and the loves of ones life." (2)

  1. I love this! you know when you know

    • So true. It’s kind of like the world opening up and getting bigger, before it snaps back and we’re imprisoned in a tiny box again. You just know things, feel things, everything expands. What would life be like if we could always see and feel that?

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