The Cost of Love

It’s hidden in that first talk.

The one that leaves you wondering if—

Oh my god.

Did you share too much?

You shared too much.

You always do this in the first thirty minutes.

No, he’s not gonna call.

Should you call?

No, he said he’d call, so you should wait, but he’s not gonna call —

Then he calls.

It happens again.

And then it’s no longer hidden.

It’s a song or a light or a dance or a shout, but it is blaring and shining and gyrating and it has taken your frontal lobes hostage.

When the words are exchanged for the first time, you are alive in a way you have never been before and will never be again. 

It’s that. 

But that part isn’t what makes it beautiful.

Love is beautiful because it is an impossible choice two people make to reach toward one another.

It’s sharing your bed with a person whose snores wake them out of their own sleep and not suffocating them for it.

It’s hearing the passive aggression about the socks on the floor and ignoring it.

It’s hearing the passive aggression about the electric bill and ignoring it.

It’s hearing the passive aggression about the dirty dishes and then having an explosive fight about the snoring and the socks and the electric bill and the dishes and also the time you drank the juice out of the carton —

what kind of no-manner-having-double-dipping-saliva-sharing savage are you —

and then bursting out in laughter because this is absurd, and you love each other, remember?

It’s forgetting.

It’s feeling your heart be crushed by the hands you trusted to keep it safe.

It’s hearing the words you hoped you’d never hear from the mouth you prayed would never say them.

It’s in the blaze that ignited as an infatuation but steadied into a refining fire.

It illuminates and burns away the selfishness, shame, and fear you weren’t sure were there.

It’s in the sorrow that lays your tear-broken apology at the feet of a person who should turn away in disgust.

It’s in the response that only makes sense to those who have been licked by the flames —

Forgiveness.

Acceptance.

Affirmation that as you are when you are strong, you are as worthy when you are wrong, when you are miserable, when you are lost.

It’s in the choice to reach toward a person who was made for your contact.

It’s in giving that touch.

Receiving that touch.

Love is a jealous God.

If you want it, you must let it change you.

It will cost you everything.

Love will cost you everything.

But it will give you more.  

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