My head is pressed down on the cold kitchen counter with my eyes closed. I hear the banging of pots and pans as my dad prepares dinner. “I hate boys” I told my father as he shuffles through the refrigerator. “Well, ya know, Kate, boys are stupid and I don’t blame you.” I sat there thinking my mind was made up, this is it, I will never date again. I hate the feeling of disappointment after so much anticipation. It’s like flat champagne when you’re expecting the POP!
My dad could sense my disappointment. When I picked up my head and noticed my father staring at me, “Kate, do you know the meaning of love… love is the feeling of responsibility for someone else’s happiness.” Until then I never really knew how to describe love. I have been out searching for this magical feeling but really had no idea what I was looking for. I’ve always had such wonderful examples of love in my life, but never REALLY understood what it meant. I look at my father and his love for my mother. I think of my grandparents and their kept promise of till death do them part. I also think of their journey to finding each other.
Love is like pirates and treasure. Love is gold. Love is hard to find. And the journey to discovering love is priceless. Even if I never do find the treasure the journey getting there has been filled with glorious tales of the high seas. Homer and the Odyssey. I will now no longer look at disappointing dates/relationships as flat champagne, but rather Odysseus’ trip home to Penelope. Each terrible date is just a swerve off the road distracted by sirens. One day, hopefully, maybe, I will be in a place much like the wonderful examples in my life; but if not, I have one hell of a story to tell.