thieves

Comparison is the thief of joy.

I've been thinking about this.  Is it not true!

We compare appearances.  We compare talents.  We compare tastes.

We express love by comparison.

     "I love you more than infinity."  

        "Well, I love you more than that."

     "But you cant, infinity is never ending."

        "Well I do. I love you beyond infinity."  

It's a debate worth having as Spoke and I celebrate twenty-five years married, this month.

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"Do you fight much?" a girl, newly wedded, asked me.  We were sipping wine at an open-air bar, Dallas new to her, both of us new to each other.

We had just one big one I told her.

(There was another, small in comparison, in Pisa, Italy.  Tempers teetered like the tower.  We'd lost our way, the sun was setting and we were close to missing the ride back to Florence.  Mad at our circumstances, we took it out on each other and rode back to the city in complete silence.)

I wish I could have shared words of wisdom with my young friend but when marriage is blithe and effortless, as ours is, you don't understand it yourself.  You simply feel blessed.  

We're lovers, I could have said, soulmates too.  Spoke would tell her it's magic.

Comparisons with my new, young friend stare me down at times.  She has her youth and I'm envious.  I've perspective that has come with age and which she's beginning to recognize and appreciate, as she embraces life's experiences.  

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We compare choices.  We compare wealth.  We compare desires.  

At what will be a casual, French cafe dinner to celebrate, Spoke and I will likely reminisce about memorable meals spanning our quarter-century together; full baguettes with orange marmalade and strong coffee, four courses at the swanky restaurant in a Bahama hotel, cappuccino in Rome, Sam's pizza on Greenville Avenue, fried scallops in Cape Cod, shaved truffles on a plate-sized ravioli in Firenze, the numerous bowls of Conchiglie ai Quattro Formaggi at MoMo . . .  

What joy they each brought!  We wouldn't wish to compare them.  

A classic bistro dinner, enjoyed slowly over a few hours, is so classically us, it too will likely be memorable for years to come.  Comparison may join us, briefly but rightly so, for it would come as no surprise to either of us, if at some point in the meal, the other leans in and from across the small cafe table, says, 

     "I love you more than infinity."







Quote by Theodore Roosevelt