If home is where your heart is, what happens if your heart has been stolen by someone in another country? As some of my regular readers will know, I made my home in the coastal reaches several years ago. In the small seaside town where I live, life has proceeded in fairly uninterrupted fashion. That is, until The Girl in Row B met the man of her dreams halfway across the Channel.
I’m a firm believer in the power of the universe to grant wishes. I’d asked for someone intelligent solvent, own hair and teeth, etc. I’m a Virgo (a.k.a. fussy), so as you can imagine, the product spec was quite lengthy...
In previously universal requests, I’d also mentioned I might like someone who didn’t live in the same place as me. Now don’t get me wrong…I wasn’t wishing for someone on the other side of the planet, just someone who didn’t live in the same place as me. Not too near, not too far.
The lesson here is to be extremely careful what – or who – you wish for. Because I now find myself in the curious position of contemplating life on the continent, having just completed the renovations on my new house – which isn’t. And this got me thinking…
A house is just bricks and mortar. It’s the memories you make with the people you love that create a home. Wherever that might be.
Given my rather jaundiced view of love, you would be forgiven for thinking this blog would be a diatribe about the perils of giving your heart to the wrong person. Moreover, the actions of a recent, but now extremely ex lover – he is definitely on my ‘I regret you and hope you die slowly and painfully’ list – made me wonder whether this blog should be fair warning to those tender souls who still think hearts and flowers mean something.
So far, so cynical…
Actually, St Valentine was a Roman martyr who was killed for marrying Christian couples around 269 A.D. and was stoned and then beheaded. Not terribly loving of Emperor Claudius! Not a card or flower or soft toy in sight! Nevertheless, I’ve decided that on a day which celebrates romance it would be fitting to share one of my favourite poems. I read it at my sister’s wedding, and I reproduce here for everyone who has ever felt that toe-tingling, heart-stopping, crazy little thing called love. Happy Valentine’s Day!
I carry your heart with me by E.E. Cummings
i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)
i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you
are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)