A New Kind of Love

John and I had a heart to heart the other day. (Scary, I know!) I was whining, being my usual self, complaining about what a wreck my body is after carrying two babies. After every complaint about which part of me would never be the same, my dear husband would patiently reply with a reason why that didn't matter, anyway. But, I was deep in my own depressing thoughts, hearing him, but not really listening. It was that depressing train of thought that somehow carried me from my body, and how it would never be the same, to our relationship, and how much it had changed. I talked about how much I missed the way it used to be between us. When we were teenagers, college students, newlyweds. My thought train travelled through a lot of happy times and awesome memories. To times and places that we will never be again, people that we will never be again. And it made me sad. Sadder than I already was. Because truthfully, the cliche is true. Those were some of the best days of our lives. That kind of new, passionate love that young people have for each other is something that you only experience once. The way we treated each other, the things we did for each other, and the way we felt about each other... it's all so different now. I kept getting sadder, but the thought train kept pressing on. Now it seems that we're always in a rush. Too much to do in too little time. All of our energy, especially mine, is directed at the kids. It seems that we have so little left for each other. On and on, I went, perpetuating my saddness. And then I stopped. I asked him if he saw it, too. I asked him if he missed the way I used to be, he used to be, we used to be. We were so much in love then, shouldn't he miss that, too? And ya know what... he disagreed with me. Shocking, right? Oh, he saw what I meant about how so much has changed. And he even agreed about how wonderful those days of young love were. But what he said next makes me cry even now. He said (in that simple way he has of explaining things that should be difficult) that we still have that love, it's just different now. It's a new kind of love, he said. Not a man of many words, my husband is often so right, simplifying all that I have overanalyzed. So right. Our love is no less passionate now, no less genuine. Our love is stronger, if anything, with each day that it matures. We have over a decade of shared experiences, some pleasant and some painful, but all of them drawing us closer together. And while I sometimes feel that those experiences have worn me out, made me something less than what I used to be... I realize now that the opposite is true. Those experiences made me, and us, what we are. We are husband and wife, we are parents. No, we will never be the same. Our relationship will never be what it was. It will be better. It is better. We are better. A little older, a little wiser, a little more mature. And the older, wiser, more mature love that we share is something I am learning to cherish. All thanks to my husband and his few, simple words.