My Mom’s Memoirs Part 2

Social

For the explanation of these posts, and all other entries from my mom, please go here.

Dear Children:

Mature love is so comfortable; not as exciting as young love, but far more steady and assured. Love is knowing your mate will come home to you and likes his family and chooses to be with them instead of somewhere else in spare moments. It is knowing he sacrifices bowling and a better job because he wants to be with his family.

Love is conversing together. Love is the warm feeling one gets when one’s mate is praised or when one’s mate does or says something you admire. Love is the constant wonder, “How come such a fine person chose me with my inadequacies and still chooses me?” Young love is erratic very high and very low. Mature love never gets as high but neither does it go so low. It goes deep. It is not a moment in time. It is time and, God willing, beyond time.

Young love is ecstatic at one time and at another, is deeply disappointed in one’s mate. It is a time of discovering the bad and the good. Mature love is comfortable. It has adjusted to the bad and the good. I wrote a poem about this before I ever knew it. I wrote two poems, to be exact. Both express this as my mind reasoned it must be from what I’ve seen of my family and others. It’s funny now to discover the trueness, which before I only guessed. How well I hit upon it! And the reason, as I said before, is my good home with its example and discussion of homes we saw.


LOVING IS A CURIOUS JOY

Loving is a curious joy
It changes as it grows.
Our courting was in poetry,
Our marriage is in prose.
I loved the dashing words we used,
But now I love more.
The love we show in acts and words
Is deeper than before.

DEFINITION OF LOVE

An old familiar ease and coziness
Inviting two to make themselves at home
Within the depth of life experience
And there reveal their thoughts and dreams and hopes
– Is love – and not the pounding pulse alone.

A challenge, hand upon a hand agreed
To tough the top of every blocking hill
Within the span of their horizon view
And there to laugh in joyous unison
– Is love – and not the pounding pulse alone.

The outstretched hands of two uniting souls
Who wish to share the warmth and joy that rests
Within their heart’s expanding width and breadth
And thus be worthier of all this joy
– Is love – and not the pounding pulse alone.


FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmail

One Response

  1. […] Ruth wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptI wrote a bpoem/b about this before I ever knew it. I wrote two bpoems/b, to be exact. Both express this as my mind reasoned it must be from what I’ve seen of my family and others. It’s bfunny/b now to discover the trueness, which before I only b…/b […]

Leave a Reply

What color is grass?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.