I Love You

I love you. We met at a barbecue or perhaps a wedding. We hit it off because your jokes were punctual or because my suit was clean pressed. After trading numbers, we parted only to unpart. At next our next meeting, I learned that your thoughts ran deep, and you saw that my lips listened. We grew close, and our hearts tiptoed together cautiously, as though we might wake up from the dream. We attended another wedding, but now your hand was in mine, and my ring on yours. From there we flew and we soared, and we trudged and we struggled. With you I have grown deeply, and you have aged well. Even now we are yet two cogs that do not fit, yet the machine runs on borrowed time. We have years to come, and then many more years thereafter. I love you.

I love you. As far back as I can remember, your presence hangs over my memories, intangible yet inevitable. You set me up on play-dates with friends and with homework, and always had more to say. I never had more to listen. You perhaps grew me, and I perhaps aged you, at times for worse for wear. Your advice (and commands) fed me as much as your cooking (thanks), and your roof comforted me as much as your embrace (thanks again). When I was 14 or 15 (or 12) I grew tired of you, and you grew tired in general. Soon enough, you fed me only advice, for I fed myself. I owe you nothing, but I owe you so much. I can repay you so much, but I can repay you nothing. When I visit, I realize that so much has changed, but nothing has changed. You have been for me, and that has been enough. I love you.

I love you. We were thrown together by chance, perhaps to struggle, perhaps to play, but regardless we started out by sharing in the little things. We exploded aliens together or sailed to the moon in a cardboard box. Barbie met Ken, or Optimus met Megatron. Regardless, time passed, and we passed footballs and swapped gossip, attended each others' birthday parties though we were too old for birthday parties. I moved out here or you moved out there, but I still remember when that wasn't the case. Old times come easily again whenever we meet, and it's never long until that happens. You will toast at my wedding, and I will catch your bouquet. Distance and age do not separate us. I love you.

I love you. We were introduced, but your name, sadly, I don't remember. Your face blends with the previous guy, or the next woman, and I just can't seem to recall. You feel the same way, but we laugh it off since laughing is a simpler action to repeat on every such occasion. I would love to know you better, but there just isn't the time, because my dog must be walked, and your lawn must be mowed. Between "Hello" and "Goodbye" are all the same questions to which we answer "Great!" by rote. One day I will remember your name, and you will know my face, and we will be friends, but there's just so much time between then and now. I wish you the best, and you wish me the best. I love you.

I love you. We began by butting heads. You are a coworker, a group member for class, a waiter, a bus driver, a landlord, a police officer, a mailman, a mother-in-law. You have seen my face, for better or for worse, or just for worse, and remember it. I asked for decaf, you overcharged me, I took your seat, your front bumper kissed my back bumper. Your face, I remember it too, twisted with unhappiness at best and with hatred at worst. I never meant for things to be this way, and you never wanted to know who I was at all, but now we are neither here nor there. Soon enough, I will apologize, and soon enough you will admit you were wrong, but not before we butt heads again. You make me struggle on a level that I don't even understand or know, but when I do, that struggle will already have ended. I love you.

I love you. We have never met, but I have heard of you. I have seen you in a photograph with my friend, or perhaps in one taken by my friend. I have seen you in a magazine, or in a photo gallery. You are either like me or unlike me, but definitely more like me than unlike me. You are young and smiling, freckles on a face yet to grow weathered and troubled. You are old and smiling, years lived before I knew even my first. You are staggering with a heavy burden, or skipping to an unheard beat. You could be alone, or you could be lonely. Your clothes are worn hand-me-downs or cashmere and furs. Your expression is ingenuous or calloused, yet still I see two eyes and ears, a nose and mouth. Your circumstances I could never know, nor will I ever, yet I do know. I wish to shoulder your burdens and share in your stories. Your life unknown calls out to me, and I hope that we will eventually meet. I love you.

I love you. We have never met, but I have heard of you. You are to me the number "1", because casualties are measured in quantities. Your life was counted among many that I will not meet here. You lived and grew in a land I have not visited, among a people I have not met, and in a culture I do not know. You perished in an earthquake, or fell under gunfire. You were lost at sea or lost on land, washed away or blown away. You fought for me, and you fought against me, but I do not even know your name. You died and with you died dreams and hopes, memories and thoughts, a lifetime of experiences. Your family grieves for you even now, for you were to them a loving husband, a caring wife, a beloved son, a treasured daughter. I can see only a nameless statistic, but I know that you were a person. I love you.

I love you. You sought me out when I was confused, hurt, distrusting, prideful, wretched, or just unaware. You showed me your heart so that I could see my own. You showed me your heart that healed the sick, comforted the anxious, fed the hungered, rebuked the proud, and forgave the repentant. You showed me your heart that would stop even while marching on the road to death just to attend to a blind beggar. You showed me your heart that looked past the the broken exteriors of prostitutes, criminals and cripples and displayed not distaste, pity, or dismissal, but compassion, love, and recognition of the presence of a human soul. Though you were God himself, you allowed yourself to be nailed hand and foot to the death, for our sake, for my sake. You suffered undeservedly so that we would not suffer deservedly. And as you loved us, I love you.