As I finished another sweet and sad Modern Love column in the New York Times I reflect on my own stories:
Of the heartache
reborn as something new
fresh and happy.
Looking back at what seems like a dark tunnel of the past
of confusion
and sadness
feelings of not being enough
or too much
fade away to the reality of unconditional.
In the way that love is Modern
as it is classic.
Clean as it is dirty
Perfect as it is flawed in its joy.
Found through friends
at a glance at work
through the trenches online
it comes
and when it is real
it arrives
and stays for good.
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