Love is Patient


The more I think about it, the more it warms me because love is such a precious yet fragile thing. This past weekend, my family took a trip out of state so my brother could attend his girlfriend’s homecoming dance. And as quietly jealous as their relationship makes me sometimes, I pay it respect and I admire it equally as much, if not more. I always respect and admire anyone who can hold long-distance relationship because I learned the hard way that I’m not fit for it.

It saddens me a little that I missed their initial meeting; I wanted to be in the raw emotion, I wanted to see the excited relief of my brother and the bashful cry of his significant other. I traveled separately with my father later that day (I’ll spare the griping about the horrific traffic jams), so we arrived later. My brother had gone to the dance – I just wanted something to eat. A little later, he met us back at the hotel. When I say he was glowing, he could not stop smiling, dancing, or anything similar. It was precious… but because I’m his sibling, I went with the “omg shut up” instead.

I went into the night doing homework, er, trying my hardest – I slept at about 2:30am. In the morning (as in post-sunrise), there a rather light feeling about everyone, one I still remember. My father and youngest brother were on the deck overlooking the boardwalk and beachside. The breeze and sunlight only kept the mood as light as it was. “The couple of the hour” and my oldest brother were walking along the beach when I had awakened. When they did return, I did get to meet the madam. I was both happy to finally meet her and very surprised. I was sitting when she first walked in, bidding my “hello’s”… And then I stood up to hug her. I am the shortest person in my family and I still tease my brother about the fact she fit under my chin when I hugged her.

Regardless of her height, she was nonetheless adorable. She reminded me of my mother and my brother didn’t fail to fit my father’s role. They earned the nickname “Jones Couple Jr.” from me, as that’s our family name. The surprise activity for that day was a trip to an amusement park. Unfortunately, we only were given two hours because we had the trip back home ahead of us and school the next day. I got paired with my wimpy youngest brother, so I couldn’t do much. Out of the two hours we were allotted, one of them was spent looking for a simpler ride (in a roller coaster based park) for him. About 30mins of the second hour was spent waiting in line by myself because I was determined to ride something. I did finally get to ride… unfortunately. I had already known the ride would be lame, but I hadn’t expected to what degree. It was a waste of waiting time, to me. But I had gotten some fill of adrenaline…

The ride home seemed to go by quick – more than likely because I was asleep the whole time. Every time the weekend crosses my mind, I feel this almost maternal happiness. I bid their young love growth and wellness. I tease from time to time, asking when the wedding is, but should my brother ever seriously answer, I wouldn’t mind and I’d offer my services in any way. But despite what the future may hold, I see them being happy – at least for a little while longer. Maybe I could take the journey myself to reunite the couple once more…


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