I intended to sit down this afternoon and blog about my recent conference experience, but all I have seemed inspired to write about is old love. Constant, loyal, old love. One of my friends and I decided to have a lazy Saturday down on Mass Street in Lawrence, KS. Laughing like two little girls, we just bounced around from brunching to window shopping to rummaging through the used book store, stumbling upon old gems and witty titles, skipping down the street to the tune of a street musician. It felt so good to be myself and for her to be herself and to not feel that need to act and that need to impress or talk about work or seriousness. The chilling wind, a reminder that winter is fast approaching, but the sun reminding us that Summer was in the not-so-distant past.
I've been struggling with a constant nagging cough and cold, so our couple hour venture wore me out like none other, but as I lie here about to go back to sleep with a second dose of medicine, I cannot help but contemplate about how much belief I have in old love. Love that is hand-in-hand acknowledgment that life is hard and that each day can be a struggle to find meaning. It is the knowledge that fights happen... confusion, and frustration happens, and that commitment to be with one another won't change. Love that looks like wrinkly hands, yellow gold and tarnished rings, gray hair, and hunched backs. Love that looks each new year in the face and says "Let's go!" I am young and I don't understand love standing the test of time for decades, but I do know that if I have one life purpose, it will be to understand that kind of love and to call it my very own.
"Swear when you say at the end of the day / It's not the same old song. / You've got new chords I've never heard before / And I'm ready to sing along. / The stars align in the sky / Though the floor falls out when we try. / You don't need to worry / Baby I'm your confidence man." Matt Pryor
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