Love is a Beautiful Thing

~ livelytwist

love-beautiful

As I grew up, it sometimes seemed that my parents would throw invisible daggers at each other and the knives would miss, hit the wall, rebound, and lacerate my heart. I thought they might do better apart rather than together, but my mother was adamant that she stick things through, as if she were glue.

Close to thirty years have elapsed since those turbulent times. In war more than elsewhere things do not turn out as we expect. Nearby they do not appear as they did from a distance (Carl von Clausewitz, On War). Perhaps because my parents now speak of their departure like something imminent in the distance, they invite my sisters and me closer, and I see what I did not see then.

My parents tell us about their lives, the things we do not know that they think we should.

We ask my father how he met my mother. His story is like him, adorned with few words. He says that when he met my mother, she was suitably impressed with his house; he had a very nice house in Sapele. When he left Sapele for Lagos, my mother followed him there.

My mother protests and interrupts. She admits that although he had a fine house, she never ventured inside, did not even heed the catcalls of the boys in the area, who said, “Lady, notu you we dey call?”

We shush her gently and assure her that her turn will come. When it does, she counters his story. She says that on her way to school, my father and his friends would peep at her from their house. “I used to be very pretty,” she is matter-of-fact, “everybody struggled to talk to me, but I would just ignore them.”

When my father came to look for her, he was always well turned out in a suit and tie. Because she was afraid of her mother finding out, she met him at the corner and it was, “Hello, hello, by the window side.” A shy smile creeps at the corners of her mouth at this recollection. “But,” she says, “I did not give in for a moment.”

At this, my sisters and I laugh. We make jokes about standing at the corner. My mother laughs. My father laughs. It is a while before we collect ourselves to continue, lost as we are in our memories of teenage love and desire.

“I left for Lagos because I had a strong urge to succeed in life; Sapele was too small for my dreams. I did not leave because of your dad, but to find greener pastures,” my mother says.

“Okay,” my sister smiles knowingly and says, “he was your greener pastures.”

My father chuckles, “She pursued me to Lagos.”

My mother rolls her eyes in exasperation, “I said I went to find greener pastures!”

They bicker over the details of their romance, each wanting to come up tops, but it is playful, weighted by tenderness processed and matured over time. I do not point out that both their stories have holes they have not filled. Maybe they want to bring my sisters and me close enough and no further.

Young people often imagine, as I did, that the fires of romance in older people die out, their candles burnt and spent somewhere in their twenties. In my forties, I know this to be untrue. Watching my parents, I know that it will still be untrue in my sixties, seventies, and way beyond.

Love is a beautiful thing. 

©Timi Yeseibo 2017

 

Photo Credit: https://pixabay.com/en/tic-tac-toe-love-heart-play-1777859/

 

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54 thoughts on “Love is a Beautiful Thing”

  3. Pingback: January, In Retrospect | livelytwist

  5. This is an amazingly perfect piece of writing, Timi. Truly. I loved every drop, your first paragraph is such a whopper, such a piece of poetry. I don’t know what you did, what your process was, but it worked, it really worked. Well-done.

    xxoo

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    1. Thank you Lani.

      What I remember most about writing this piece was that I wanted people to read and leave feeling good and hopeful at the start of the year.

      But, I also challenged myself to a new level of excellence where writing is concerned, therefore, your feedback is important to me. Thanks again. 🙂

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  7. WOW! LOVE IS TRULY A BEAUTIFUL THING. IT IS HUMANS USE OF IT THAT MAKES IT LOOK UGLY.

    THIS MADE ME UNDERSTAND THOSE WHO TRULY MARRIES FOR LOVE SINCERELY STAY TOGETHER.

    THANKS FOR SHARING THIS BEAUTIFUL STORY.

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  10. Love is indeed a beautiful thing! Thank you for describing how love does not have to fade (a popular misconception of today’s society) Loved it! Subscribing immediately.
    I am new to this whole “blog world,” mind checking out my blog and telling me some of your opinions as well. Best wishes ❤

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  11. Love this! I also asked my parents to tell the story of how they met (or as they called it “courted”). When I was a kid, I couldn’t help going, “Ewwww” at the thought of my parents having a romance. But when I became an adult, that knowledge was important.

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  14. Reminds me of Roger Angell’s essay on ageing in which he says the greatest surprise of his life is the unceasing desire for companionship.. I suppose your folk – having toughed it out – are now in a position where they can reap the dividends of all they’ve sown into their relationship.. #RelationshipGoals, as we say in a different space 🙂

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    1. @ dividends, I think so too.

      Roger Angell’s essay sounds familiar, maybe I have read it, if not, I feel as if I’m in for a treat. He’s on to something though… I see and hear older single people making decisions about their lives that factor in companionship, one way or the other …

      Thanks.

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  18. Young people often imagine, as I did, that the fires of romance in older people die out, their candles burnt and spent somewhere in their twenties. In my forties, I know this to be untrue. Watching my parents, I know that it will still be untrue in my sixties, seventies, and way beyond.

    This is so true. Something I wrote earlier confirmed this;
    “…There are days I see the old couple who see me too and they would shrug their shoulder, bat their eyelids, nod their head so little that none would notice, followed by a simple smile. No words said. But we understand fully each other. They saying it is possible to love beyond 72 and my response, “I can see that.”

    Indeed, seeing old couples in love is reassuring. Love is indeed a beautiful thing.

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  21. Glad your parents still have genuine affection for one another.
    Many couples are not so “lucky” ~ maybe because their relationship is/was based on need, greed, or other ego concerns, rather than love.

    “Happiness is being married to your best friend.”

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    1. “Happiness is being married to your best friend.” Aha, they say a friend is someone who knows you but loves you anyway…

      Thanks Nancy. I’m also glad that they’re still loving each other.

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  24. “Young people often imagine, as I did, that the fires of romance in older people die out, their candles burnt and spent somewhere in their twenties. In my forties, I know this to be untrue. Watching my parents, I know that it will still be untrue in my sixties, seventies, and way beyond.

    Love is a beautiful thing.”

    I love the above paragraphs. I came to this light watching my Octogenarian maternal grandparents. I have see them bicker, fight, even point fingers somethings. But in these moments, I see threads of something deep; an emotion too pure to be trashed. I have seen them laugh; when they speak of the beginnings, bowels of love I can see in those conversations. One says something, the other completes it, and they burst into laughter. They Make fun of the past, their friends, and their experiences. The memories make them happy. And even if I see the imperfection, the flaws, the humbling experiences, I always conclude that love was there, and is there.

    And, I always say, “I love Love; Love loved me first.”

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    1. Aw, this is priceless: One says something, the other completes it, and they burst into laughter.
      They say that after couples have been together awhile, they begin to look alike… I mean even if they don’t physically, what you’ve described above tends to happen.

      Love loved me first. True. 🙂

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