Love, Relatively Speaking
March 7, 2016
I am well aware of different kinds of love, and that they all relate to human beings and not to inanimate objects.
However, there are things to which we become attached, and the bond is very strong.
We say we love them, knowing full well that’s not the correct word to define our feeling; but we don’t know what word to use, for nothing fits.
I have this old, faded, pink velour robe. It's been my companion during flu, pneumonia, grief, shingles, and many other maladies. It's been washed, bleached, and dried many, many times—yet, it comes out sweet smelling, fluffy, soft, and warm, ready to put right back on each time.
There’s no denying the pure comfort and soothing satisfaction from donning this article of clothing.
It’s been “there” for me during my worst days, has eased my pain, and soothed my fevered brow.
I have attempted to replace that robe several times. However, absolutely nothing else will suffice.
What on earth will I do when it's “done-in?”
I couldn’t bear to cremate it, and there's no place I could put it if I have it bronzed.