I am reading a book about Coco Chanel and Igor Stravinsky. The story is so great, there is a movie about it too. It is complicated and multi-layered, sometimes strange, but at it’s root it is a love story. Theirs is a magnetic connection that is apparent to the reader the first time she lays eyes on him and he on her.
The other night my husband was ironing a shirt (I know, right?) and I leaned in to kiss him when we shocked each other so badly that you actually saw a spark. I literally have a burn mark on my lip. It was so funny I almost laughed until I peed. Now, clearly that spark had more to do with our uber dry house and wall-to-wall carpet than it did with physical chemistry, but it did get me thinking. The Husband and I indeed have a love story of our own. The more we are together and the farther entrenched in “every day” that we get, it is to remember. The image of our romance story is hard to see sometimes through the haze of iron steam and dust clouds, but it is there and in it’s day, it was quite a tale. Look out Coco and Igor-the Kings are in town.
We all start with a love story. I think mine is fantastic but that doesn’t mean I don’t often forget it. It is easy to lose it in the day to day clutter of life. It is easy to focus on the flaws instead of the gifts. It is easy, as we grow to wonder if we might grow out of it sometimes. It is easy to lose track of your love story. But if like me, you are lucky, then in the quiet moments you will be reminded that it is still there and it is the reason the clutter is all worth it in the end.
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