You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling

By Karen Friday

Love rode off into the sunset. People. Belief systems. Lofty imaginations. Endearing lines from a romance story.

Many times I, too, saddled up to run away. What was I afraid of?

As long as I can remember, I’ve questioned love. Was it intended for me? What substantiates the real thing? I wasn’t sure.

Since love was uncertain and on shaky ground, I formed a bubble around myself—a safety net to protect.

I enjoy bubbles. Be it the children’s class at church or a party, I cannot keep from retrieving the wand for effervescence of bubbli-ness (Is this a word? No matter, I like it).

But fragile circles of soapy liquid don’t float forever. They always meet their destiny—floor, furniture, blade of grass, tree, or human. Then burst. And so did mine.

I had bought and cherished the wrong view of love. The one that uses the affection in loose terms. Expressing sentiments for a herd of things from people to food, from possessions to sports teams.

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