|A sweet smelling rose down the street this morning.|
"What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other
What's in a name? that which we call a
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd."
What a love story, Romeo and Juliet. Consuming, ardent, tragic.
Back in 1998, when Jamie and I were figuring out our life together around being at the University of Washington Medical Center 12 hours a day, we made a few small attempts at being a couple. Mostly we tried to be parents to a child born 3 and a half months early, weighing less than 2 pounds. We didn't know what being a parent meant. We were so young ourselves, barely over twenty. We fumbled through the life of a premature baby that we lost, and truth be told, are still picking up the pieces at times.
One of those heartfelt attempts at being a couple showed up as a date to the movies. We saw "Shakespeare in Love" and I felt my heart swell as I held Jamie's hand in the dark movie theatre, I thought that I knew everything would be alright in the end. But, when is the end? Is it when your baby dies? Is it when you have your next "first" child? Or is it each time you revisit the perceived hurts of how each parent goes through that experience differently? Is it when you get married? Is it when you choose forgiveness? Is it 15 years later?
No. The answer is at each point, a resounding "No." There is no end, you keep learning and living together, and loving each other as best as you can. It may not be a Romeo and Juliet kind of love story, but it is one filled with life and yes, sometimes tragedy big and small, but one that continues everyday because we choose to keep working on ourselves and with each other.
Last night, in the interest of Poetry month, we had a viewing of "Shakespeare in Love" with Amy and later Bob, at apartment #4. It is quite a lovely movie; emotionally moving, passionate, funny and refreshingly ends without the typical "Hollywood" ending.
During one of my incomplete commitments to memorizing I intended to take this sonnet to heart, until I realized it is in a man's voice and I had second thoughts. But still, I love Shakespeare's voice and word choice; and his romantic passion. Although I am told I lack that in my own life. Yet, I probably won't choose this one for my classic poem to memorize.
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Haft left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did not except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as a madmen's
At random from the truth vainly express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee
Who art as black as hell, and dark as night.
Or maybe I will.