Sharing
A little pink flower got me thinking the other day. Not always a good thing but sometimes something comes of it. So, let’s try this. It’s about sharing. During my marriage, whenever I found something worth looking at, I’d always get my wife and show it to her. A sunrise. A bloom. A city. You name it. And when we first started dating, she took me places she liked, and I took her places I liked and we did things together, and then we did things together for a long time.
In the beginning, that sharing was a way of describing ourselves, to give the other person a sense of who we were, and to get a sense in return of who they were, to discover what we liked. And as the relationship endured, it was a way of expanding and deepening the relationship. New interests developed, new things were discovered, new ideas embraced. And the sharing went to a deeper level. There was the sharing of the burdens: helping around the house, helping with the kids, helping in the yard, listening to my groans and gripes about work. And finally, there was the sharing of how we felt and what we wanted, and that was probably the hardest sharing because it wasn’t always welcome. But there was always sharing.
And when she was gone, it was gone, and I was lost. But luckily, I was found. Friends. They invited me to dinner, welcomed me into their homes, took me on trips, invited me to hear music. They shared their loves with me, and in turn let me share mine with them. They read my writing, they listened to my music, they let me talk. So, I think the engine of love is sharing, giving of yourself to others and them giving in return. And sometimes it’s one and sometimes its many and it’s always good and there’s always someone who needs it and someone who has it, and is willing to share.