Getting this love thing right.

Reading a biography of D. H. Lawrence. Maybe I read it long, long ago. And this is a re-reading. And good thing. Because I’m in a better position today to really understand Lawrence. Because I am truly in love. With someone. With life. And that was Lawrence, too. Especially in the last half of his life. Pity that he lived only to 44. And that he was sick and frail much of his life. But love made the difference. He lived his love. Maybe that was his finest novel. The one he never wrote. But lived, instead. He had a storybook life. A real love. No pretend. Though his written novels and poetry were pretty much a reflection of his actual life, too. Much of it agony. In search of love. But the agony was well worth the price to pay for the love that it finally brought. As for me, the nicest thing about a long life is that it gives one time to find and understand love. Unfortunately, some people run out of time. And never experience true love. But then, if there really is a kind and compassionate creator, there’s life after death. And one has  forever to get this love thing right. –Jim Broede