I have a friend, he has a theory about the things that people carry. It’s that the poorer you are, the more bags you carry– your extras of cameras and computers and phones and the ways that expensive new technology consolidation is unaffordable. But those who are rich carry only one sleek appliance to do it all. Those who are really rich hire someone else to carry the rest.
He’s been right, except in matters of love.
Because in matters of love, when you are full and rich with it, you are carrying more than you have ever carried; all of the person you can’t help but to carry all of, because you are in love. And the poverty of love is carrying none of the person you love at all.
So heavy with love, I am. And I am so happy and sad to carry it all.
But I keep carrying, because I am rich with the stuff.
(I am a bag lady of love with him).