This captures so perfectly the feeling of free falling in love.
“ I pedaled, neither the little gears nor the big gears or any arrangement of gears in between would release it, but still I pedaled on, further and harder, until I was exhausted.”
The energy that comes out of no where, the rise of adrenaline and the butterflies, ah! The butterflies.
You don’t get it a thousand times. I’m probably under 10 and that was the big one. I knew she was the one out of the gate. We both did. I was very blessed in that department.
I wrote Maple Drive because I’d never written a collection of essays on the story of falling in love. (I’m sure they are out there.)
I read them. For what it’s worth, I only really felt it once, with the intensity you describe at least, and it’s when I met my (second) husband. I could only think- ah! so this is what it was supposed to be like. I had fallen in love before, but never with the keenness that demands perpetual presence of the other person. Where the waiting is just as exhilarating as the having, and the anticipation never gets disappointed.
You’re going to think I’m making this up. I’m not. I’m really just being competitive: my son was born on Mother’s Day. And…. You’ll never beat this: my dad fucking died on Christmas.
While we’re on heavy shit: my mother died on Valentine’s Day. (She was very dramatic.) and I was (likely) conceived on Valentine’s Day. My birthday is November 16th. Maybe the memory killed her. 🤣she would have thought that was funny.
Fuck! I’ve got one more. This one’s a fucking mic drop. I don’t know why it didn’t come to me first. My wife is English and our daughter was born on, wait for it, the 4th of July.
“And breathing the ocean air would not release it either…”
You cannot contain it. You want to shout it to the world, but really, you want, need , to be close enough to touch, even if it is just a finger. Close enough to whisper. My husband reminded me just the other day, it was the 49th Valentine’s Day we have celebrated together.
I loved reading this again. Still sweet and real and alive.
And you probably know the bike path. ✈️ 🏖️
I bet I do.
Beautiful.
Thanks so much, Eric.
This is great.
Thanks, Frank. Wonderful to find you out strolling in the Comments Garden.
Always loved the Maple Drive post.
Thanks, Jeanine. I’m too sentimental to not find something for the day. Although I’m probably being too hard on myself there.
Maple Drive was the first of your posts I read. And re sentimentality—right there with ya.
This captures so perfectly the feeling of free falling in love.
“ I pedaled, neither the little gears nor the big gears or any arrangement of gears in between would release it, but still I pedaled on, further and harder, until I was exhausted.”
The energy that comes out of no where, the rise of adrenaline and the butterflies, ah! The butterflies.
You don’t get it a thousand times. I’m probably under 10 and that was the big one. I knew she was the one out of the gate. We both did. I was very blessed in that department.
I wrote Maple Drive because I’d never written a collection of essays on the story of falling in love. (I’m sure they are out there.)
I read them. For what it’s worth, I only really felt it once, with the intensity you describe at least, and it’s when I met my (second) husband. I could only think- ah! so this is what it was supposed to be like. I had fallen in love before, but never with the keenness that demands perpetual presence of the other person. Where the waiting is just as exhilarating as the having, and the anticipation never gets disappointed.
I have to think once is perfect. You should have written these. 😀
Different thought: there’s an anxiety to it, too.
But it is the type of sweet anxiety that is filled with hope.
MIL FTW
You’re going to think I’m making this up. I’m not. I’m really just being competitive: my son was born on Mother’s Day. And…. You’ll never beat this: my dad fucking died on Christmas.
Life is full of strange turns. I was honored to give her eulogy last year.
I'm so sorry. I bet it was beautiful.
While we’re on heavy shit: my mother died on Valentine’s Day. (She was very dramatic.) and I was (likely) conceived on Valentine’s Day. My birthday is November 16th. Maybe the memory killed her. 🤣she would have thought that was funny.
I was conceived on mother's day which was also my mother's birthday. It's a lot of pressure.
I just took that in!
My sister was born on Halloween… sorry that’s all I’ve got
Oh wait! My dad was born on presidents day! My orthodox Jewish friend was born on christmas!
AND MY WIFE IS APRIL 22ND WHICH IS EEEEEARTH DAY!!!!!!!!!!!
Ouch
Ok now I’m just getting desperate
Fuck! I’ve got one more. This one’s a fucking mic drop. I don’t know why it didn’t come to me first. My wife is English and our daughter was born on, wait for it, the 4th of July.
George Washington and Lincoln were both born on President’s Day
"Maybe the surfers might have understood a little."
My favorite sentence. Hits exactly the right note.
Thanks, David. I look forward to meeting you soon.
“It was still too big.”
“And breathing the ocean air would not release it either…”
You cannot contain it. You want to shout it to the world, but really, you want, need , to be close enough to touch, even if it is just a finger. Close enough to whisper. My husband reminded me just the other day, it was the 49th Valentine’s Day we have celebrated together.
( No, we didn’t start dating in first grade).