My husband Ned and I took our first dance class this weekend. He spun me like a top and I did my best to let him lead. Blissful in our kitchen on the first real day of Spring (Sunday, April 6), our friend Samar tells us that we are the only couple she knows that are really living an honest and true love, and I think, we move well together, even if we don’t know all the steps.
What makes a love true? Can we be honest with each other if we lie to ourselves?
Spring is in the air. The dog-shitty smell is the giveaway. Melting snow erases the dead of winter. The clothes peel off, skin sucks the sun like a baby at the boob. The human heart, that muscular organ bulging in our chests pumps hot blood through our bodies craving, no, demanding sex, contact, love. Why deny ourselves any longer? What are here for, anyways?
Here’s a little poem for you Rumi lovers:
My First Love Story
The minute I heard my first love story
I started looking for you,
not knowing how blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.
They are in each other all along.
Fearless: Lydia Lukidis and Chris Godziuk; dear friends, inspired artists and mad puppeteers, about to go even deeper and get married. Mazel tov!
FAN THE FLAMES