And it struck me, she’s right. I look in the mirror and yes; there are lines on my face. Is that what she meant? Weathered by love. Weathered by love for life maybe? Yes, absolutely. Taking risk, saying yes to crazy ideas, living life on the edge, changing my mind in a moment, pissing people off because I didn’t do it their way may have all played a role in the weathering of me. But weathered by love… sounds so romantic… I’ll take it.
I’ve been treasured by love, applauded with love, denied love, desperate for love, in love and loving… but just the sound of ‘weathered by love’ got my attention. Now instead of seeing a weathered face, I see a face that’s weathered by love. I can live with that.
Or maybe weathered by love is all about my weathered soul. I’ve been dragged, pushed, pulled and shoved into the light just for the sake of reminding me who I am. Who we are. But who am I kidding? I wasn’t pushed every time… sometimes I jumped. I threw myself into the light, because I knew the darkness already, so well. Don’t we all? Isn’t that the point? Can we find harmony in the good and the bad, even in ourselves? Can we let our weathered hearts heal? Can we forgive our selves for all the shameful things we did while exploring the darkness? I can. I mean, what the fuck? Why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t you? I did the best I could at the time. And that is what got me to here… weathered by love.