A few excerpts from the Modern Love column "When the Words Don't Fit" are below, but really, you'll want to just go ahead and read the whole thing. I promise it will leave your heart smiling.
When the Words Don't Fit
by Sarah Healy
... He walked me to my car, and we kissed in the parking garage, under orblike yellow lights. It was a still kiss, a postcard kiss, a Disney princess kiss, the kind of kiss that makes blue cartoon birds chirp and swirl in the sky, their beaks holding garlands.
And this is exactly where the story should end. It should cut to credits, and the music should be triumphant but soft. Your last image should be of the young girl and the handsome poetry-writing boy frozen in a movie kiss. You should brush the popcorn off your lap and leave the theater smiling because everything worked out the way you knew it would. You can leave remembering that time when you were young and lovely, and things like that could happen.
Because it’s boring to say that things don’t work out like they do in the movies. Everyone knows that. Even 21-year-olds. But it’s hard to resist a great story. If we had lasted, we would have had one hell of a story.
“You have to believe that the Lord put you together in the first place.” That’s what my father said in his toast. That was his advice to my husband and me, his way of saying that what we had was preordained, that it was divine. And really, it was as good an explanation as any for love.
So, I suppose that’s the point: Love chooses us.
My husband and I don’t have a great “meeting” story. We met in a conventional way and had a conventional wedding. And in some sense, we lead a conventional life.
But my husband has seen me at my worst, at my most vile. And he has seen me at my best. He knows the things I don’t tell anyone, and the lies that I tell everyone but him. I have made sacrifices for him and been angry about it. Sometimes his flaws are so egregious, so blatant, they are all I see. And sometimes his kindness is so stunning that I am humbled.
And that’s love. Big, epic, fairy-tale love. The kind of love people write about. The kind of love that could inspire a poem.
Seriously. It's been almost 7 weeks since I moved (and, you know, a few more than that since I've blogged... but who's counting?). And my beautifully large closet is still in a total disarray. That will all change this weekend though. No traveling. No holy matrimonies. No out of town guests.
10 years in cinematic making, and it all comes down to this... Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.
Less than 7 hours until I'm sitting in Lincoln Square Cinemas for my very last midnight showing of this amazing series. I'm joining the thousands of die-hard fans tonight, along with my Potter-loving BFF and BF... and let's be honest, my new winged friend will likely be in attendance as well. :)
Thanks to Derek for this Look Back over the last 7 films... get ready for 5 minutes and 14 seconds of pure magical delight!