Expiration Dates

by Rebecca Serle

We convey too many important things in too few words these days.

Here’s the truth: I do want love. In some ways, I’ve been looking for it forever. Real love, the kind that makes you want to grow old together, makes you not just unafraid of all that time with one person but electrified by it.

“That’s not the truth; that’s your story about it. And they aren’t the same thing.”

We have to be cracked open sometimes. We have to be cracked open sometimes to let anything good in. What I see now, emerging in the mirror, is this one, simple truth: learning to be broken is learning to be whole.

I thought if I had all the answers, if I was always one step ahead, if I knew my hand, then I’d never lose. But being surprised by life isn’t losing, it’s living. It’s messy and uncomfortable and complicated and beautiful. It’s life, all of it. The only way to get it wrong is to refuse to play.

“Love is a net.”

My life has been filled with magical moments, I was just so busy waiting I didn’t see them when they were here.

What is blank space, really, but an invitation?

Love is a net. It can catch you long after the person is no longer there.