My lips aren't always sealed and flowers never made me happy. Something about the death in them. When I see their fresh stems, I think of how they will die soon. No matter how much water, no matter what trick, or grandmammy's secret tips- they will die. In truth, they already were dying. The moment you picked them.
When I was a small girl, from about six until ten probably, I would run the mountain behind my momma's house. Every spring, I would start plucking the fresh flower heads right from the ground. I would pick them until my hands were full and I couldn't hold not another one. All for a vase, all for my momma', all because we are taught they are beautiful and show love. I'm older now. Wiser too if I had to say. Though I don't know everything, I do know this- love isn't in the things picked for us, it is the things in which we give. Time. Kindness. Desire. Honesty. Laughter. Ecstasy. Ourselves. Love is the sum of all the things that make us smile- make us feel, worth it.
The breath in a kiss. The pause after we say I love you. The sound of a heart, just from a single touch. These are the things that make for a good story. Moreso, they are the things that make for a better reality. Life is worth the live, if there is love. Love is worth the time, if it is real. And real is worth the words, if you are lucky enough to find them.
How we find it...that's the real question- the real picking. One can't judge how love is started, no more than one could judge the sky's color, a bird's beak, or even a flower's pick.
I was asked this question over the last week, by a very intelligent reader friend of mine, what I thought about love and what was my secret- especially since I write romance novels. To you, sir...that is my answer.
I'm back on full time writing. A good love story can wipe a writer out and then make you want to only write more. To all you wannabe' writers...write what you feel. Keep some things not so secret, and don't pick the forest floor bare. Leave a little for the rest of us to take in. Pick words instead, pick time, pick quiet, pick laughter, or a sigh after a soul baring kiss. It's almost June. I picked June. After the upcoming long weekend I have planned, June can come on in. Mostly because she's bringing the soldier with her. Have a great weekend, and have happy reads! <3, Elle Moon