The Unknown Beloved

by Amy Harmon

Words like “strange” reduced men and women to their oddities. To flat, unfeeling objects to be studied and dismissed. People deserved more than that.

“When the world is dark, look at the colors, Nettie,” she whispered, hearing the echo of the words pressed upon the girl. Malone cleared his throat, and Dani let go of the blanket. She hoped whoever had made a quilt of many colors for Nettie had welcomed her home.

“The truth is, the harder we are, the easier we shatter. It takes some softness to absorb life’s blows.”

“It is not suffering that stamps out the flame. It is hopelessness. When we stop believing . . . it seems like we slowly lose our humanity.” “Stop believing in what?” “Love.”

“Humans are complex creatures. We want to belong, but we can’t stand to be the same. How in the world do you force equity on humankind, when we try at every turn to differentiate ourselves from each other? You can do things others cannot, Dani. Where is the equity in that?” “Maybe the equity is that every gift has a price. I’ve certainly paid it.”

“We’re hardest on our heroes, aren’t we?” she said. “Eliot never took a bribe, and that made him a legend. He set an impossible standard for himself and made every other politician look bad in the process. They haven’t forgiven him for that.” “It’s the reason people secretly adore villains. Villains make them feel better about themselves.

Thoughts of the boy he’d been resurfaced. Rocks on the window, kisses in the moonlight, a girl in his arms, hope in his chest. Those days were gone. And he couldn’t go back.

“You’ve heard it said, ‘Be careful about what you ask for’?” “Yes.” “Well, I don’t ever ask for anything. Ever. That way God can’t exact a price.”

“It is the things we most want to put down, the things that are hardest to carry, to endure, that give our lives the most meaning. Sometimes our burdens are taken from us. And sometimes we walk away from them. Sometimes, not having that burden might even feel good. We might feel relief. But it doesn’t take long to realize that the things we call burdens are most often ballast. Our burdens give weight to everything we do. They shed light on all that we are. And the moment we lose them . . . we lose everything.”

It is a burden to love anyone. And it is a burden to be loved. Stop running from it, my boy.