Love that floats

She wanted to leave him. Everyone knew she wanted to leave him. She did not know how to leave. It is not that she wanted to exactly leave, she just did not want him there, anymore, with her.  It had come to that. Slowly, overtime, and it with a creepiness to it. Sort of a slow creep-walk to total unhappiness and drowning.

I wish I had known her then. We never met. But had I known her I would have pulled her aside over a cup of tea or something bolder to fit her appetite.  I would have told her this. Your only failure. Your biggest failure was you forgot to LET LOVE FLOAT. Of course she would have looked at me sideways and jagged. But if she listened with at least one of her two listening ears, she might have stayed longer. Given love a better chance. But we never met. And she stayed, he didn't. She made sure of that.

A love that floats understands that the waters will not always be calm. Sometimes it will require flipping love on its back and waiting out the worst currents. No panic, no grabbing for escape rafts. No love just flips itself over and floats. It looks up to the sky and it extends its arms out knowing all will be fine. No matter what is happening around it, calm will come.

Love may even go under at times, gasping, choking, calling out for restoration. And that is not a bad thing. Because love only needs to flip over on its back and float, knowing, believing, trusting, that it will not drown. Especially when it is looking upward and believing the greater body will keep it afloat.