Would you comfort me?
You got to watch the video…Then read…
Did you watch the video? Are you sure?
Okay. So that’s my favorite song by Ryan Adams set to an interesting collection of pictures. I got the song playing on repeat as I type this. It makes me cry. But that’s okay right?
It’s like finding a fossil. Something gone and extinct. A song about something that once lived but now is nothing but an imprint in mud and bone. Love like a fierce storm. And a warm sunrise just the same.
When I picture love, real love. The kind that doesn’t waiver or depend on the weather, the entertainment value or the myth of coffeehouses and girl-talk. I get a picture of a farmer standing on the edge of his homestead, his face cracked and leathery. Beautiful but worn. Like an ancient mountain. Something that has stood in this place, his place for eons and no one has ever lived without knowing that mountain is there. And he’s looking out over a field of slowly withering and failing crop. His eyes deep and worried. Silent but so expressive he says more in this stoic expression than most men say in ten years of talking. At his sides his hands hang at his hips. Calloused and strong, but empty, so empty he could hold a world in them. And it’s going to be a long hard winter. There are kids to feed, there’s livestock to set a store by and a mortgage on the land that once was his free and clear. And he knows all this and isn’t really sure how it will work.
And here’s the love. See here comes his wife. She moves with grace, steadfast and somehow still girlish. She too carries her years in the first creases around he mouth and her eyes. Still young but yet ancient and wise. Her hips swelled by the life she has carried. A few children and the nature in all that. Her bosom is that of a mothers. But she hints at the wild and pretty girl she was when she first met her man. How they’d dance and run off to the woods. Where her cheeks would flush red and she’d breathe softly and ragged as he pulled her close and touched her in ways she never wanted to end. Those summer days are memories now, but she never forgets. And he’s still that handsome and determined young man in her eyes.
And she knows too what lays ahead. The hardship. The worries. But being a woman she is built for making well anything that ails. And she does a stock of what money they got hidden in a coffee can in the kitchen and set away in a cellar in jars. And she knows she can stretch out what they got. It’ll be no luxury and there’ll be no ease. But it will be alright, the good Lord will provide. He always has, through illness, birth and death. So she steps up to her husband. The man she took a vow before man and God to love till time eternal. She slips her hand into his empty hand and suddenly it’s full. Filled with love, strength, promise and reassurance that no matter how hard the wind may blow they’ll stand it down together. There is nothing on this whole world will turn her from him. And she knows he too is firm in this vow. Nothing need be said. Not a word. In silence they stand in a holy way, like the prayer of a child. Earnest and truthful. It’s just how it is to be.
Yeah that is what love is to me. I just never met anyone else who is the same. Sure they’ve all promised and made vows and swore they’d be there. That they’d never want to be anywhere else. But then life gets in, I get in there and then other voices speak and it seems a promise is only as good as the moment and a vow is just what they say in the movies. The grass gets greener on the other side.And I am left to watch them go off. To move on. Lord knows I gave them reason enough. I do admit that and I know it’s never easy loving me, I creak and burn. I go silent and I get loud. I am not beautiful and I am always just a step from the dying. But I guess I figure if you meant forever you said forever.
Just lonesome I guess. Feeling like I am the only one of my kind out here amongst the things that move and bump in the dark. Wishing for someone to be what they say, just once.
Be well, be love.