I cannot believe how long I have abandoned my blog. Damn, life just gets in the way. But, we must live it, and that can mean that there is not the extra time to write about it.

You my dear sweet secret love, I am ever grateful for your continued presence in my life. Thank you for loving me.



“One day, whether you are 14, 28, or 65
You will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die

However, the saddest most awful truth, you will ever come to find –

Is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.”


When sadness touches both of our lives, we are still with one another.

Your recent loss – my dear sweet love, I am glad I could be there for you. I hope my words, my listening ear, my love for you have helped.

My own sad news, oh how I hate that she so young knows the word cancer. I am grateful for your comfort, your words, your understanding. It is comfort given that can only come from you that I seek.

Once again, as has always been, our lives parallel one another.

As does our love for one another.


This year, we celebrate 10 years together.

My, that blows me away.

And, it makes me so happy.

A man and woman in love have a gift of sight not granted to other people.

Love is our true destiny.

We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone.

We find it with another.

The Definition of Love

Recited by Julia Sawalha and Ben Miles in Lark Rise to Candleford

by Andrew Marvell

MY Love is of a birth as rare
As ’tis, for object, strange and high ;
It was begotten by Despair,
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing,
Where feeble hope could ne’er have flown,
But vainly flapped its tinsel wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fixed ;
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt.

For Fate with jealous eye does see
Two perfect loves, nor lets them close ;
Their union would her ruin be,
And her tyrannic power depose.

And therefore her decrees of steel
Us as the distant poles have placed,
(Though Love’s whole world on us doth wheel),
Not by themselves to be embraced,

Unless the giddy heaven fall,
And earth some new convulsion tear.
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramp’d into a planisphere.

As lines, so love’s oblique, may well
Themselves in every angle greet :
But ours, so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet.

Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debars,
Is the conjunction of the mind,
And opposition of the stars.