Can You Hear Me Now

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

One of the most poignant and tender moments in the musical Fiddler on the Roof  is when Tevye sings to his wife, Golde, “Do you love me?”  She answers him with, “For twenty-five years I’ve washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house.  After twenty-five years, why talk of love right now?”  Again he asks, “But do you love me?”

Do you love me?  Why should such a simple question be so hard to answer?  Why do we go out of our way to avoid telling those we truly care for that indeed we do love them?

Too often I often express love not through words, but with deeds.  I give up a weekend day to help one of my children with a problem.  I come home dog tired yet still cook dinner for Linda and me.  I stay up late when Linda is out for the evening to make sure she arrives home safely.  I vacuum the house.  I wash the dishes.  I mow the lawn.

But is that enough?  Many of those are acts that a paid servant could perform.  Is it enough show love and not express it in words?  On the other hand, is it love if you only say the words and don’t back it up with actions?

I do not believe I have ever said, “I love you” without meaning it at some level.  I even meant it when I said it to my first girlfriend all those years ago.  Of course, it was a very immature understanding of love , but it was a kind of love nonetheless (with lots of teenage lust and like). It took time and years of experience to go deeper into the feelings behind the words.

I grew up in a house where people did not express their love for each another.  It’s not that it wasn’t there. It was was simply unspoken.  The words were almost something to be ashamed of and it took leaving home and becoming comfortable with who I was before I was confident enough to utter them out loud to my family.  I have since brought the words into our conversations and always end phone calls with Mom with an “I love you.”  It took her a while, but even she started to say the words. 45 years ago that would have been unthinkable.  Now it’s unthinkable not to say them.

It took me even longer to express love for my male friends — including my own brothers. Sadly, men of my age grew up thinking it was wrong to feel that about another man. While I don’t do it for everyone, there are some very important men in my life where we regularly say “I love you.” It’s remarkably freeing feeling to be real with another human being.

Sadly, my father went to his death without ever uttering the words to me or my siblings, but that’s another story.

Do you love me?  Do I have to ask?  Do I need to be asked?  Of course I love you.  Of course you love me.  But please, tell me.  Tell me in words while you back it up in deeds.  I know there will be times when I am remiss, but I will try my best to do the same for you.

How the morning seeps through cracks and crevices
nudging, prodding
coaxing life into dream and slumber
how sunlight through curtain lace sets the spark
to a reluctant, tired tinder

Sleepy-eyed woman
tightly wrapped in her cocoon of reticence and reserve
warily answering dawn’s persistent call
she grows into the day
like grass through a sheet of concrete
slow, but steady

With a heart made for loving
and a body made to be loved
the new day begins