My youngest was cooking yesterday and as usual she refused to measure. It would have been ok normally, but in this case she was making spaghetti for the four of us and cooked enough pasta for one!
I had already told her that she needs to cook 125gm of spaghetti/person and she felt that was really too much. It was too late to cook another batch of spaghetti, so we had pasta sauce with few strands of spaghetti as garnish along with garlic bread!
I was a bit annoyed with her and told her, “everything in life can be measured”
“Really?” She asked
“Really” I replied.
“How do you measure love mom?”
It isn’t very often where I am lost for words.. I watched the siblings high 5 each other..This was even more poignant for me, cause I solved the IQ puzzle faster than the three of them and have been gloating just a few minutes earlier. (http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/health/mind/can-you-solve-the-intelligence-test-thats-sweeping-facebook/news-story/27981be57c7e02a711ddbc9502ac3501)
Anyway, I spent most of last night trying to think if there is a way to measure love.
This is what I came up with.
The measure of love is the adjustments you are willing to make to accommodate that person in your life through the vicissitude of seasons and fortunes.
I had always felt guilty because I could never love anyone as much as I loved ‘Beautiful Eyes’. It was because until recently, no one ever matched up to that measure of love that I experienced with him. Every time I tried to love, there was always something missing..
When ‘he’ and I went camping the first time..it was about to pour when we were pitching the tent and so he tied the tent poles while I went to get the sleeping bags. As soon as we pitched the tent, it started to pour..and it poured all night. We were in a remote area, in a national park, the shower and toilet were rudimentary.. The next morning, I desperately needed to take a shower, but I couldn’t bring myself to take a shower in such a crappy set up with questionable hot water supply.. Add to that, I hardly slept the night before because the tent was pushed back and forth by the strong wind. When it was time to pack up the tent, I noticed that he had tied the tent poles with double knots..24 knots.. When the tent is moist, the knots get tighter making it impossible to undo them and double knot makes it next to impossible. If I cut the knots off, then the tent is useless.. So, there I was, carefully undoing the double knots.. and I was not upset.. which really surprised me.. I am never known for my patience..and yet there I was, patiently undoing the knots.. It occurred to me that I was doing exactly the same thing ‘Beautiful Eyes’ did for me.. He was always patient with me.. all my faults didn’t matter to him…. that was his love for me.. undoing the double knots without a complaint was my love for ‘him’.. that is my measure of love..it is unending, patient and is through the vicissitude of seasons and fortunes..