Archive | July 17, 2012

Thank You:

….to all that have already submitted a letter to their lost love.  I hope it’s been interesting for you to do so and also to read what others have posted so far.

IF YOU ARE NEW TO THIS BLOG – PLEASE LOOK AT THE JULY 9TH “A LOST LOVE:” POST TO SEE WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT.

I wanted to share one of MY personal love letters also.  This one is not expressed in the traditional letter format.  It’s a reminiscence…an enhanced memory…elaborated on in short story form:

“I was thinking of you today and remembered something.

It was a Saturday in late summer. We had a complete day set aside for each other and decided to drive to Ojai. There was a large open air bookstore that I wanted to take you to. I always wondered how they could have so many books, just out there, exposed to the elements with little more than a slight corrugated plastic overhang above them. The interior courtyard was covered in leaves, which made it so charming. We wanted to buy a paperback copy of something to read after lunch. We were planning on sitting in the park because it was such a perfect, cloudless day.  I remember how we used to love doing that. You wanted to get a book on economics and I wanted you to read science fiction. So we compromised. You bought me a book on economics and I got you a sci fi anthology, paying a quarter each. We laughed as we switched them when we got out to the street.

Do you remember the Mexican restaurant next to the park that was in the center of town? It was early for lunch so we didn’t have to wait, and we were able to get a table outside facing the park.  I can still remember how hot the salsa was and how good it was on the enchiladas and salad that we shared.

The park was being set up for an afternoon concert featuring the Ojai Symphony Orchestra playing Ravel’s “La Rhapsodie Espagnole,” and Debussy’s “La Mer.”  We decided to go to that after lunch, but since we had a couple of hours before it started, we went shopping down Main Street. Mainly tourist shops, with a few antique stores thrown in.  The antique store next to the restaurant had a window filled with Art Deco things, like out of a vintage Hollywood movie set, and we just had to go in and check it out.  I called you Nick as we walked in and without missing a beat, you called me Nora.  I still have the intricate silver butterfly necklace we found there. You knew I loved it the second I saw it and came up with a story on the spot all about it – about how a man had made it for his lost love who he had re-united with, overcoming many obstacles to do so.  They had found each other again after so many years apart, and he presented it to her on their wedding day in 1924. She wore it every day until the clasp broke and she lost it.  Heartbroken that she couldn’t find it, he told her that they had found their love again and that it was time for the butterfly to find another couple to re-unite.

…and it found us that day.

I always loved how you could do that. Think of the most sentimental, beautiful thing to say at the right moment.

It even charmed the lady working behind the counter.  I remember her starting to wrap it up for us, but the necklace was very expensive and we didn’t have much money back then.  We left it in the store.

When we got back to the park, the benches had been set up in front of the stage and the orchestra was warming up.  There was a rope all around the seating area and when we found out it was going to cost us $20.00 to sit on the benches, we decided to go sit on the grass behind the stage. To this day, whenever I hear “La Mer,” I think of  lying there next to you in the grass, with our eyes closed, letting the music create the vision of sunlight glinting on the ocean, a lone seagull flying and storm clouds gathering. I remember when you told me half way through the concert to wait right there because you had left your sunglasses on the table at the restaurant, but you really went back to the antique store and bought me the necklace. I still to this day don’t know where you got the money to get it. When you gave it to me at the park during the concert, I remember trying so hard not to cry, but I did anyway. Sometimes I still cry when I come across it unexpectedly in my jewelry box. Only out of happiness, I can assure you.

There are some days that seem to connect with the infinity point.

That was one of them.

Thank you, my love.

THERE YOU HAVE ONE OF MY OWN MEMORIES

As always, I encourage you to share your memories too:

Click on COMMENTS on the bottom of the page on the left and use the POST YOUR LOVE LETTER HERE box to submit your letter to a “Lost Love” from your own past.

I’ll leave you, my fellow romanticists, with a song sung by

Madeleine Peroux:

“Dance Me to the End of Love”

http://youtu.be/Ch6h278GEpA

I hope you are all able to dance to the end of love….

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This entry was posted on July 17, 2012. 8 Comments