Where love resides

It's been a lazy day around my house. Riley, who apparently is allergic to pollen, which is the least of his health problems, but that's another post, is currently on steroids - making him listless and lethargic. His lack of energy seems to be contagious as I have divided my day between approximately three activities - watching television, sending messages on Facebook, and attempting the local paper's sudoku puzzle. Damn the sudoku! Curse the sudoku! Fuck you sudoku!

During the television portion of the day, I found myself getting sucked into the requisite Saturday afternoon chick flick. In this case, it was How to Make an American Quilt, which actually goes beyond being a chick flick to being what may be the original vagina monologue. The only thing that saves this movie from being completely vomit inducing is the brief appearances of beautiful men to offset the off-the-charts estrogen levels. But of course, being the sad sap of simp that I am, I found myself welling up at an unexpected turn of phrase in the movie.

The premise of the film - no forget it this will take too long. The quilt being made for Wynona Ryder's character in the film- I don't know her name, if you want to know you can click the link - has a theme: where love resides. Each female character in the film is constructing her own piece of the quilt that represents where love resides to them. One woman creates a garden that reminds her of her recently passed husband, another remembers a man she met in Paris and makes a section with the Eiffel Tower, and still another sews a painter's palette for her artist husband (who has consistently cheated on her since they first married).

And so I started thinking about what my piece would look like if I were part of this quilt.

.
.
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And I couldn't think of a damn thing. Nothing. Nada. Nyet.

My mind searched and searched and came up empty.

I felt hollow inside, like the wind had been sucked from me. Am I completely loveless? Have I ever really known love? What's wrong with me that I can't think of a place or time in life that represents love?

I've known happiness. My travels across the world were the best time of my life. I even fell in love a few times, or so I thought at the time. Even now, my life is in a truly wonderful place - I have the home I have always dreamed of, a great job, friends, family, and the puppy I have been wanting for so many years. But is there love? Will there ever be?

Maybe - someday - this house will be where my love resides.

Stupid chick flicks.