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Sybil held a daisy in her hand and without thinking, she said, “I’m pulling petal by petal off the stem. I am in love yet no one loves me. I want to be loved but where is my love?” Slowly she looked at the ground covered with daisy petals. In her hand was the stem with one petal remaining. With that last petal came her question of the day. What is love?

Looking around at the assortment of flowers in the park, she realized her question spawned more questions. Was love real or just an illusion? And if love was just an illusion, was she chasing an elusive dream. Sybil continued the path and watched the lovers in the park. She wanted to stop and ask if they could explain love to her. She knew at times what she thought was love was a feeling of joy that overwhelmed her when someone or something great came her way. Thinking out loud, she uttered, “Just what have I meant when I said I love you to someone?”

She thought of all the people in her life, past, and present. There were feelings for them, many times she had called those feelings of love but was it really love? Love is a mystery that we must live into, she thought. But it is a mystery that is easily explained or understood. Feelings come and go. What does that say about love? Does love come and go as well.

Sybil watched a couple with their toddler, Yes that had been her dream. She laughed. The line from a movie came crashing on her. ‘Give up your dream, you die.’ She continued to watch the toddler go back forth between his parents. They had chased the elusive dream of love.

Further on her walk, she watched a couple that seemed to be arguing. Where is the love with this couple? Have they lost their way in the chase of what we call love? Or had the love so overwhelmed them, that they lost themselves. Sybil reached back for the many books she had read on the subject of love. Love is to be unconditional. At the end of the dream is love. What about the journey, which is the chase?

A song says, “Love will keep us alive.” A wonderful thought. But of course, we have to find and be found by love first. Sybil sat on the park bench and pulled out her pad. She kept the pad for days like this when the thoughts were plenty, and she wanted to remember them later. She wrote: ‘So, what’s the first step? Do I love me? If I don’t love me, how can I love anyone else or anyone loves me?’

For the first time that day the questions were troubling, and Sybil could not answer those questions truthfully. What did she do daily that said she loved herself? In her position as a caregiver, if she was not taking care of herself, how could she take care of others.

As she sat, an older couple came and sat at the end of the bench. She was amazed as they sat quietly taking in the sights and sounds of the park while holding hands. “I want someone to hold my hand and share this journey we call life.” A chuckle brought her back to the park. “Little lady,” the older man said, “start by holding your own hand.” Shocked Sybil now knew she had said that out loud. More embarrassed than anything, she nodded to the couple. The older woman not to be outdone said, “He’s right, the person you need will only come when you do not need anyone.” “That does not make sense,” Sybil replied.

The woman smiled and said. “When we are so busy looking for love, we miss the love that is already with us. When we love ourselves, then others will love us as well.” “Can you explain love to me?” Sybil asked the couple. They both laughed. ‘Sorry,” the man said, “love cannot be explained, it has to be felt.” “But I feel like I am chasing an elusive dream,” Sybil said.

Sybil looked at the couple, There was a glow and a radiance about them. “How long have you been together?” She asked. “We were together many years ago, but did not understand how to love ourselves, so we went our separate ways, now after thirty years apart, we found each other again.” The woman looked lovingly at the man. “We were chasing that illusion you speak of without seeing the dream within ourselves. Stop chasing and let the dream chase you.” With that, the couple got up and walked away.

Sybil looked again at the one petal on the stem. The lone petal represented her life, and it was time to start the journey into loving herself. She knew without the questions and the honest sharing she will never be found by love.

Kahlil Gibran in ‘The Prophet’ speaks on love and reminds us that we have to be open to love, recognizing that it cuts to our very core but does not leave us bare. As she had stripped the daisy of the petals, there was one left standing, and it was not bare.

Sybil pressed the remaining petal in her hand. “We will always be chasing the elusive dream because we are the dream.”

Copyright © 2019 Ivy Jade

I rushed into the restaurant, late as usual to the grins of my three friends. I am always the last to arrive. Work gets intense, and I lose track of time. That is what happens when you are an accountant and love your work. Anyway, I dismiss the smirks. My friends, Lola, Tina, and Grace, do that every time I am late. They still love me.

As I sit, Grace asked, “And what is your excuse for being late today?” The other two hide behind their menus. “I was working on a project and just lost track of time.” “Well, at least you did not make up an unbelievable excuse this time,” Grace said.

“Ugh, whatever. Anyway, I need to tell you all about this guy.” “A guy!” All three said at the same time. “Wait a minute, you have a guy?” Lola said.

“If you would give me a minute, and stop interrupting me, I will tell you.” I knew they would only laugh and interrupt me again, so I rushed on with my story.

“There is a new guy at work. He’s tall with a somewhat stocky build. Even on casual Friday he rarely wears short sleeve shirts.”

“And what has that got to do with him?” Lola asked.

Without answering her, I continued. “He has blueish green eyes and short brown hair.”

“Wait a minute, you are telling us about some white boy,” Grace said.

“Grace, he is not a boy, well he is younger than us.”

The laughter took over the table. The waiter arriving was the only thing that got the laughter to a small titter from my girls. We all ordered the same thing every time we are at the Toco Polo restaurant, yet we always picked up the menus and studied them as if we would choose something different. The waiter chuckled as he knew us well. Slowly the four orders were given, and I was ready to get back to my story.

“So now you are a cougar,” Tina said with a laugh she could barely conceal. “Maybe I won’t share the rest of my story, since you all are not interested.”

“Come on girl, tell us about the young boy, sorry the young man who has obviously caught your fancy,” Grace said as she giggled.

“Yes, tell us. Personally, I am happy for you. It’s about time someone made you notice something other than the numbers you play with at work.” Tina added.

I took a deep breath. This was the hard part. These were my girls, but maybe even they would not understand, heck I didn’t understand. “He’s sort of shy, but I am aware of him every time he comes near. Just being in his presence touches something deep within me. I can sense him before I see him. Does that make sense?”

“Go on,” Tina said.

“His favorite color is blue. Yesterday he wore a gray suit with a light blue shirt, and his eyes seem to turn a deeper blue. I can tell blue is his favorite color. He looks good in blue. Each day he wears a different blue shirt. Most of the staff have been speculating about him. He is quiet, and does not hang with the staff after work.”

“And…” Lola said.

‘That’s all. I just like looking at him.”

“Here, I thought your big news was that you were dating him. Or at least ready to get some.” Lola laughed.

“Lola, you are gross. I am just admiring him from a distance. Am I a stalker? I just watch him.”

After another round of laughs, my girls all said as one, “Tell the man you are interested and see what happens.”

The lunch continued with the jokes of the week. We always came with one joke to share. Maybe next week the joke will be that I asked the guy for coffee or lunch or for something and he laughed at me. None of them answered my question about being a stalker.

© 2019 Ivy Jade, All Rights Reserved

As they lowered the casket, a woman looked at all of there mourners as she leaned over and asked, “What did they say she died from?” The other woman trying to keep her sobs in check, finally said in a voice cracking as she spoke, “It doesn’t matter what the death certificate says, she lived and died with a broken heart.”

“But no one dies from a broken heart,” the first woman replied. “Ssh, the service isn’t over,” was the reply. Meg stood looking at the casket and began to think back over the life of her friend. “Did she really live with a broken heart and I missed it,” she thought to herself.

They met in second grade. Meg and Tammy had liked all the same things growing up. Meg was the quieter of the two. It was okay for Tammy to be the leader, the one always in charge. When had they gown apart and she not know the sorrow her friend carried inside.

Sue, still curious about what their friend died from asked again as they walked to their car. “I know no one dies from a broken heart, what did her death certificate say?” ‘Sue, why is this so important to you?” Meg asked. Sue’s question was just as troubling as Tammy’s death.

The ride to the cemetery was quiet as Sue realized that if Meg knew what caused Tamny’s death, she was not willing to share that information. Slowly they both got out of the car and followed the others to the grave site. Soon it would be dark. Sue could not understand why the funeral had taken place to late in the afternoon. There were too many questions around Tammy’s death now this funeral.

The final words were said, and the casket was lowered into the ground. Tammy had lived her life to the fullest yet only ten or so people were there to say goodbye. Meg and Sue were the last to leave the cemetery. The ride to Sue’s was quiet with one or two sobs from Meg.

Later that night Sue still troubled about the day decided to research. Was there such a thing as death by a broken heart. She was amazed at what she found. No death certificate would ever list broken heart as the cause, grief so deep could cause someone to die and thus the term broken heart.

Sue sat replayed the life she knew of her friend. She had not known Tammy as long as Meg. She met them in college and had moved back to their hometown. They met once a week for the past six years. It was only in the past month that Tammy had begged off. Her excuse had been she was busy with work. Tammy was an accountant. Her busy months were usually March, April, September, and October. So what was so critical to miss their gathering in July?

What happened in Tammy’s life that we missed? Then Sue corrected herself. Somehow she had a feeling Meg knew but had not told her. My friend was hurting, and my other friend did not let me know. They put me on the outside and kept me out of the loop. Is this how a broken heart begins?

Paula pulled the sheet closer to her body. A shield to ward off the memories of the day before. She stared at the walls of the tiny motel room. Here I sit on Black Friday with no one. The rest of the world is out shopping for bargains that really are not bargains or spending time with their family. Ugh, family.

The quiet room was once in a while noisy with the interruption of the sound of the surf in the ocean. The wind died down, and the motel walls began to speak to her. “I’m not losing my mind.” She said to herself. She grabbed her tablet to read, but the wall wanted to be heard.

‘The people who have stayed here are varied as the flowers in my wallpaper. Some have snored when they slept and kept others awake. Some were alone but couldn’t sleep. I watched them dress, some with great bodies and some not so great bodies. Some slept in one spot on the bed and others all over the bed.”

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted the wall as it spoke to her.

“Hi Arlene, glad you called me back,” Paula said as she answered the call.

“Girl what are doing in Kure Beach, I thought you went to Charlotte.”

“Long story short, they pissed me off, and I left after dinner and came to the beach.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Arlene, I am fifty years old and never been married, so my ancient as dirt aunt asked if I was a lesbian at the table, right in the middle of the dessert. You could hear a pin drop.”

“What… why would she ask that? Never mind I know why. What did you say?”

“I told her if I was it was none of her business than I got up and left before I said anything else.”

“You need me to come to the beach?”

“No, I can hear your family in the background. You stay and enjoy. I will see you on Sunday. Thanks for listening.”

Paula pushed end on the cell phone and automatically the walls began to speak again.

“You know couples made love all night in that bed and others didn’t speak at all.”

At that comment, Paula tried to tune out the walls.

“You can still hear me. I look across the room to the mirror. I am getting drab. But does anybody notice? They come to see the ocean. They don’t care about the room or me. Some burn candles that give the room a better smell than the bathroom. Sometimes the food smells stay long after the people have left. People come and go. Cleaners come and go. The moisture of the sea, however, stays with me. You are alone, you and your tablet. Who will follow you? Will they see me? I’m simply the wall of your room with fading wallpaper.”

Paula put the tablet down and really looked at the walls of her motel room. She wondered if anyone really ever saw her as well.