A band I like, the Downer Party, has a lyric from “Cities” that says, “How can it be that we live with those we love in different cities?” How apt for my experiences of the past week. I’m flying back from the East Coast where I attended a friend’s wedding. It was so lovely — the wedding and the visit.
It had been at least a year, sometimes years, plural, since I saw some of my friends. We chatted as if no time had passed, falling into familiarity like driving the daily route to work. Despite distance, despite not talking for ages, the love is there, much like I wrote about in “Love from afar.”
And now I’m going back to normal life, which sucks. It seems no matter where I am, I’m going to miss somebody because my loved ones don’t live together in a big hippie commune. I wish I was one of those “smile because it happened” instead of “cry because it’s over” people, but I’m not. I cry. I lament. I ache. But ever the practical person, I’m reminded there’s nothing I can actually do to change all this. And perhaps the feeling of love is what’s most important.
Maybe like I wrote about a few weeks ago, the emotions are more important than the particulars. Maybe it doesn’t matter so much that we live in different time zones, that we don’t speak often, that we don’t know the ins and outs of each other’s daily lives. perhaps what’s most important is the love between us that quite often transcends time and space.
Is it easier to love people who live close by? Of course, but that’s not always possible. Maybe in this day and age of being far flung, I have to content myself with knowing that I love. That love is all there is. That as I reference in the title of this post: “Love, love, love. The end.”
I dream of a world where we love more. A world where we realize love is what’s most important, not how often we see each other or how frequently we talk. A world where we take in Tennyson’s sentiment, “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.”
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.