The scars on our hearts
We laid side by side and discussed the end of our relationship.
There was no arguing. No crying. No screaming. No pleading. We were done, Anthony and I. We had gone our own ways months before; our words didn’t make truth but mirror it.
“Do we call it now, then?” I asked. “Or do we give it another week and see how we feel then?”
After several moments of reflection, Anthony replied, “Let’s give it a week.”
From authors to singers, from actors to painters, there are few artists whose works I consistently enjoy. I usually describe myself as liking works, not artists, with rare exceptions like Joss Whedon, Eric Kufs or P!nk.
P!nk has been a favorite since law school, when I began running to her fierce yet catchy tunes. I didn’t have to be or feel any one thing while listening to her music. I felt all of myself in it: sadness, anger, frustration, elation, hope.
And yet, having loved her music for a decade, I was still shocked to discover a few days ago just how much more deeply she could move me.
I enjoyed “Just Give Me A Reason” the first time I heard it, but it was the transient enjoyment of half-listening.
The second time I heard it, I actually heard it:
Just give me a reason
Just a little bit’s enough
Just a second we’re not broken just bent
We can learn to love again
It’s in the stars
It’s been written in the scars on our hearts
That we’re not broken just bent
And we can learn to love again
A year ago, Anthony and I chose to give ourselves one more week.
In that week, we found reasons. In the weeks that followed, we found more reasons.
A few months later, he proposed. I said yes, and slowly came to forget just how close we’d been to walking away from each other.
Listening to “Just Give Me A Reason,” I remembered it all. I saw from the vantage of today a whole history that would never have been if we hadn’t given ourselves one week to find a reason. Thanks to that week, we learned to love again.
Thanks to P!nk, I see anew the gifts of that love.