Squaretop Mountain

The thing about love is that it requires unbelievable vulnerability. Risk. The willingness to share your secrets and let all the ugly — or at least some of it — hang out to be judged. Accepted. Rejected. Ignored.

By contrast, the top of the roller coaster is fueled with those magical tingly overwhelming feelings that makes your heart race and your breath catch. When you are there, caught in the infancy of such emotion, it feels like nothing could ever go wrong ever. It is pure and beautiful and makes you smile in your sleep.

So it seems, the moment I mention love here — things go sour. It’s happened several times now, enough to make someone who is spiritual but not superstitious change her ways. Throw salt over her shoulder. Avoid the 13th of anything. Keep her big mouth shut.

This isn’t a public hearing of what went wrong. (Very little) Or what went right. (Quite a bit) I loved someone fully, blindly, madly and it didn’t work. I’m better off for the time we spent together, so grateful he’ll remain in my life as a trusted friend.

I’m headed to Wyoming this week for a few days away with family friends. I hope to attend the rodeo, cat call a few cowboys in Wranglers and spin myself silly at night in the meadow — staring at the starry heavens above. I also hope to catch my breath and get this elephant of doom off my chest.

And to those who have figured out this mystery of love — I’m in awe. Hold your other close. As it seems to me more and more —  love is all that matters.