A Slow Flame to Victory

A year ago I was getting ready to go to Paris by myself. I had a broken heart. I was cupping my hands around it like it was the top of a newborn’s head. I was praying I could protect it long enough for it to grow back together. I wanted to escape on a plane, far, far away from the dreams I had been certain were plans waiting to be realized. Part of me was also hoping the person I loved, who lived in Germany, would show up at my hotel room and hold me in his arms.

But our hearts never really grow back to what they were before they were broken. They heal, but the broken bits are in there, like shards of glass, still fragile, still shatterable, but our skin has thickened and wizened and regenerated over top.

It was a long road to May of this year. It had a lot of forks. It took me down a lot of valleys, chasms, and then an abyss. I tried to light hope but it was a thin flame without much heat. And yet, somehow, here is May, in all its glorious flirtation and I am alive. I could regret things that happened or, I could be delighted I have a chance to live the life I want to live, on my own terms.

Desire has a funny way of bringing you face to face with choice. In the end, happiness isn’t in your heart’s desire but in the choice you made when you found it.

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Winged Victory of Samothrace, taken at the Louvre, Paris, May 2012. By moi of course.

3 Comments

Filed under Relationships

3 responses to “A Slow Flame to Victory

  1. “Happiness isn’t in your heart’s desire but in the choice you made when you found it.” So true, so true. Thanks for sharing the forks in the road with all of us Mags. Long may your flame burn…

  2. Gretchen Williams

    This morning I was sleeping in late and having a most intriguing dream image. A fellow was sketching with scribble strokes. And in just a few motions, Wingéd Victory appeared. There could be no denying. To verify his work, he repeated the quick gestures and there she was again. Wind-tossed and glorious. I wanted to train my own hand to draw that. Indeed. The wind blowing the clothes, the wing above all.. a stability in a storm.

    Phone call returned, I returned to bed, digital device at hand. Google image search brought many selections. Only one approximated the angle of the flurry-sketches of my dream (even now I can remotely hear the scribble being laid down .. soft-pointed pencil on a toothy paper.) It was your image that captured the angle, although his was flipped. Feminine curves facing right, unfurled wing over billowing clothes to the left.

    Your post was from May of 2013. I hope you will take a moment to look back through your personal timeline and see how your life has moved and changed from that week. Best wishes to you.

    And thank you for posting this photo. It helped clarify my dream.

    May your dreams be made clear too.

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