You’ve seen the movie: the music swells in the background, the lights darken around the edges with one bright, piercing ray of sun shining in the center of the screen, while a perfectly manicured, make-upped and hair-dooed couple embrace, vowing that *this* is forever.
Or maybe you’ve seen this one: the house is burning to the ground and the stunningly gorgeous, yet humble girl-next-door-type is trapped in the upper floor, having swooned gracefully and fallen in a semi-conscious state to the smoldering ground. With her, seemingly, last breath she calls out the name of the man whom she has, up to this point in the film, scorned, and who, unbeknownst to the citizens of this quaint little town, was a firefighter before he hit the bottle following the death of his first wife, and who, just now, as he realized he was about to lose this woman forever, found the courage to suit up again in the uniform of his former life, swearing off of the Devil’s elixir forever, and climbed into the towering inferno and towards certain death just to see her one.more.time. And as he reaches her in that semi-conscious state, he calls out her name too and lovingly cradles her perfect head in his sculpted arms, and as she flutters her eyes open one last time, she says, “You came back for me” to which he responds “I’ll never leave you again”; then depending on what kind of ending you like in a movie they either die together there in the fire so that their love is never less perfect than it was in that moment, or they leap out of the window into the pillow-like field of forget-me-nots and live happily ever after.
I don't know about you, but this isn't what life in my house looked like this week. To read what love really looked like in my house, click here to read the rest of my latest Heart of the Matter Article.