When I was but a mere child, my mother tried to instill in me what she believed to be the correct usage of the words like and love. It would go something like this:
“A baby tears doll! I love it!”
“We like toys,
Jayne. We love people.”
Or maybe this:
“I love chocolate cake, Mommy.”
“You like chocolate
cake. You love your family.”
On occasion, I could stump her:
“I love my puppy.”
Once I entered adulthood and saw how casually the
word “love” was tossed about, I understood her desire to teach me its value. To
this day, I will check myself when tempted to use the word “love” in relation
to an object, and I have to say I really do appreciate the difference.
Imagine then my sense of self-recrimination when I
recently found myself head-over-heels, madly-in-love with… a handbag. Wrong.
So very, very wrong. And yet I
knew we were meant to be together from the moment I saw her.
Lest you think me shallow, I assure you it wasn’t
just a physical attraction. Yes, her supple
peach/rose, Italian leather thrills me at the touch. The way she drapes herself across my
shoulder, snuggling softly at my bosom causes my breath to quicken. And her pedigree – well, let’s just say the
lady is from a very good family.
However, it’s what she is on the inside that counts
most and has captured my heart so completely. Compartments.
I weep with joy just thinking about them: One on each side and a zipper pocket in the
middle. And inside those? More
compartments. To never again know the torment and frustration of having to dig for a ringing phone, a lipstick,
checkbook, or keys. You know what I
mean, ladies.
She has brought order and peace to my life: On one side, a small writing tablet and pen,
business cards, telephone, with room for a book should I wish to carry one. On the other: Cosmetics, comb, mirror and tissues. And in the middle: Wallet, checks, bank deposit books and keys. Exactly as God intended. Such generosity. How can one not fall in love?
So, while my mother would surely never approve, I
will say it now for the whole world to know.
If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right.
This was written for this week’s Studio30+ prompt.
