Choose

There’s a love story I want to tell you about. It was told to me by someone old and wise.  This person loved two people, two people so very different that their differences tore her life apart. The names have been changed to protect the innocent and the hapless.

            The first one was named “Hope.”  Hope was a great man, mighty with a resounding voice.  When he spoke, her heart hammered in her chest and she just knew she could fly.

            The second was a woman named “Action.” Action was a clever one; had made plans on top of plans for the life they would have.  She was sharp as a tack, but perhaps a little dull to some. My friend didn’t want dull; she wanted excitement and spontaneity. Thus, she did what the young normally do…She left Action behind to follow Hope.

            And follow him she did. Around the country, around the world.  They were chased out of countries around the world. Seems that not everyone was ready to come home to “Hope.”  She didn’t understand, but still she followed him.  His words still made her spirit soar a lifetime later, when Action was relegated to a footnote in history.

            At the end of that lifetime, she came home to a frail cot in a homeless shelter—because you see, the foreclosure crisis had gone nuclear in her absence.  She coughed sickly into a Kleenex—because she was one of the unlucky 15 million, but she understood!  And wrapped her arms around her surviving children—those that weren’t serving in Europe, the site of the newest world war.  She realized that a lifetime of hope alone had led to a lifetime of grief. When she thought of the ozone, of the poverty, and of the fear, she often missed that second love, she missed a woman called “Action.”

            She said to me that if she could go back in time, she would turn away from the easy gamble. She’d turn away the pretty words and the fluttering heartbeat.  She’d stick with the love that was sure to last, that wouldn’t disappoint.  She missed the sincere devotion, she missed the certainty of a good plan, of a worthwhile lifetime.  She’d chosen to follow Hope, which like smoke was impossible to hold.  The Action she left went on to do great things in her own stead. No one chased Action out of countries around the world; they embraced her and she laughed.

            As she lay dying, Action to came to visit my friend.  No hard feelings, of course.  Action had always been too noble for her own good. She never said, You should’ve’ followed me. But my friend did.  Action patted her hand and told her that in life the only chance you get is the first one—and it’s gone in a heartbeat.

            As a friend of a friend, I’m telling you, your only chance is the first one.  Which love will you choose?

~ by Regency on August 21, 2008.