~ ~ ~ People say they “find” love, as if it were an object hidden by a rock. But love takes many forms, and it is never the same for any man and woman. What people find then is a certain love. Few men find a certain love with that one person, a grateful love, a deep but quite love, one that they know, above all else, is irreplaceable. Once she’s gone, they let their days go stale. They put their heart to sleep.

Love like rain, can nourish from above, drenching lovers with a soaking joy. But sometimes, under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots, keeping itself alive.

Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.