“Now, from the days when it was always summer in Eden, to these days when it is mostly winter in fallen latitudes, the world of a man has invariably gone one way… the way of the love of a woman.” (Charles Dickens)
Confession: This is the most binding agreement my sons can produce.
I don’t know the details of what they were negotiating. Most likely, two treasured pieces of unimportant property were changing hands (again) and they didn’t want the switching to continue. Or they felt silly doing backsies, and needed to feel they were doing it like men.
I found their document later, and thought it a nutshell encapsulation of humans trying to be happy, making promises and signing puny names to them, with small addendums in fine print. (We are pretty sure…)
I think of government, wanting to fix the world with paper. I think of finance, wanting to paper the world with fixes. And most especially I think of marriage, the permanent fixture not so permanent—the frequent journey through multiple partners in search of the magic elusive, true love. (We are pretty sure…)
You know, the funny thing about true love is, you have to be true.
Unfortunately for you, oh best beloved captive audience, I have two more things to say about love. Hold on to your hat.