The next time I fall in love, I want fireworks.
And by fireworks, I mean actual ones, exploding color lighting up the night sky. I mean, I want someone who will hold my hand and watch the display of lights without complaining about the thick Georgia heat or buzz of mosquitoes or staying home because he never liked fireworks much anyway, never mind that I love them with my whole heart.
The next time I fall in love, I want a picnic.
And by a picnic, I mean an actual picnic with a wicker basket and a striped blanket and all the trimmings. Don’t worry; I have the basket and the blanket. I can even bring the trimmings. But I want someone who wants to go on picnics with me because I love them, even if it’s not their favorite.
The next time I fall in love, I want to ride that wave of love on a bicycle built for two.
And when I say on a bicycle built for two, I mean that the person I’m with would rent one with me if I asked because it makes me smile. Even if he thinks it’s silly or a sort of ridiculous thing to want.
The next time I fall in love, I want it to be real.
And by real I mean that the person I fall in love with is the person that I know and not the mask of someone I don’t. I want to understand who they are and what they want, and I don’t want pretty lies or empty promises, even if they think I would prefer them. Because I prefer the real. And have had my fill of pretty lies and empty promises, enough to last a lifetime.
The next time I fall in love, I want it to be forever.
And by forever, I mean that I want it to be a soul mate love, the stuff of myths and legends. Twin flame. 11:11. The thing we all want to believe in but rarely do. I want it to be timeless and eternal, and I don’t want it to end for some stupid reason or because you thought the grass was greener somewhere else. By forever, I mean for the rest of our lives. The way that I love my children and myself and the friends that have touched my heart.
The next time I fall in love, I want to dive in.
And by dive in, I mean I don’t want to wade in or anchor myself out of fear. I want to leap forward, even knowing that it will hurt even if it works out. I want to leave the fear behind and reach for that love with everything in me, feeling blessed that it’s mine, for however long it will be. I want to hold it close and know that it matters. I don’t want to find my throat catching on the memories of times when it just wasn’t enough to hold us together. I don’t want to shy away because I remember that sharp pain of the fall. I just want to feel the love, all the love, and I want to dive.