Diamonds and Gold

Richard & Margaret Garcia

How do I, a man so caught up in interpreting moral concerns, pause to write about Valentine's day? Despite the ongoing social stage of debauchery, I can make time and find love, not only in today, but in every day. Believe it or not, I have a romantic attitude about a lot in life.  My passion isn't always delivered with spite.  I appreciate how we chose a day to look, especially, for the love in our lives.

 In this day and age, I cannot afford most types of sleek or elegant love.  I'm not a big spender, high maintenance, groomed, or class act.  I don't allure with much appeal.  I've lost that decorative feeling.  I'm not that much for gift giving or tokens of worth.  Not to say, I don't second guess and worry how I show how deep my love is.  But on this day, I wonder what's the market value on love?

I'm all for the most expensive forms of love.  I'll take the luxurious trip into the depths of those eyes, sailing past your passions, and cannonball'n into your... soul.  Maybe a classic 4 carat princess cut of forgiveness, to reflect refract the lessons learned from tiny rainbows, glimmering, as the light sparkles through your tears.  I'm not so much for love shaped hearts. But I do love me some heart felt thoughts that mold my emotions into silk cut outs, to be sowed onto your favorite pillow, so that when you lay your weary head, there will be soothing fabric to greet your pulse. It isn't so much the excitement of special events, more like realizing certain people make events special.

The most expensive gifts might be the sunsets never shared, the full moons wishfully left in stare, the celebrations that had to be kept unknown, and the dreams you don't want to wake from, because they tell the truest hints of love's deepness. It is in those moments that my ego is its weakest and I know my love's pockets are their deepest.

There are times when I fall short, emotional poverty, and overdraft my love fund. But when you invest with expensive love the insufficient fund becomes like a dividend, never to divide or end. My ability and capacity to launder love correlate an exchange rate to my willingness to be loved.  It takes courage to love, even more, when I find that love don't live here or there no more. That's the painfully expensive love.  That beautiful pain teaches me to move with a humble limp, to talk with a sober whisper, and it doesn't shine like gold, rather it's polished like a beached stone.

It's fulfilling to be loved for pleasing, while it's depleting to love unnoticed.  To be a volunteer lover, silent angel, a warrior of light, the one who loves just because, without the need for glory, without having to have day. This love is the kind of love that surprisingly tells you without words.  That might be how I recognize expensive love.

There are gifts of love that aren't sold, told, or gold.  Some forms of priceless love simply grow old.