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Three Beautiful Words
“I love you.” The weight carried by those words is immeasurable; the power within them is boggling. They are the most amazing words in existence. They are the three most beautiful
words one can ever hear.
Let me just say this now: I'm rather odd for a teenage boy. I'm not looking for physical
lust; in fact, its not even something I'd want to consider. What I seek is a soul-mate, someone
with whom I can form a lasting bond. Someone I can spend my life with- or, if I get my way,
The woman I seek may or may not be beautiful- but either way I'll know she is. She
may or may not be popular- but she'll seem the whole world to me. Appearances, standing,
none of that matters in the least. Not to me. What I seek is someone that I get along with;
someone that I agree with; someone who, when I say those three words, will know that I
mean it with every fiber of my being.
I want someone I can spend a lifetime with. Ever since I was young I've had an image
in my head of my dying moment, and there has always been her by my side.
I want to be able to wake up in the morning and see her face and be stunned by how
she's the most amazing person in the world. I want to be able to laugh with her, cry with her,
see the world as she sees it. I want every morning to begin with her beautiful smile- a smile
that, for me, will carry more than words ever possibly could- and the scent of her in the
sheets; I want every day to end with her next to me, and I will lean a little toward her and lay
in awe of how she is truly the most gorgeous thing to walk the Earth. I want to feel the love at
that moment, and have it permeate my dreams, so that I may lay there, confident in our
loyalty to one another ad know that the love I feel for her then will be the love I feel for her
I want my children to be able to look back at us and gawk at the feelings between her
and I. I don't want words at my funeral; my soul will rest easy in the knowledge that she's
there, and that she loves me.
When my grand-kids come up to me and sit upon my knee and ask me what the most
important thing in my life is, I want to be able to reach over and grab her hand and share a
glance that contains more than words ever could. “She is.”
I want a woman that I love so much that I'd do anything for her; and I want a woman
who loves me just as much. I want to be able to look at the people around me and see them and see all their divorces and problems and break-ups and faults. I'll hold her in my arms and
say to her, “That could never be us.” And I know it never will be.
I want her to be my life. When I lay there dying, I want to think of our wedding and see
the lives we lived with one another, two lives so entangled that nothing could ever tear them
apart, and say to myself, Best decision of my life. I want to know that when I'm dead and I'm
little more than bones she'll still come to me every day and give me flowers and speak to me,
letting her problems fall upon deaf ears and taking comfort in the silence that replies. I want
my children to do the same. After all, who could be better counselor than a man who can't be
mean or criticize, even when he was alive? I want that because if I were in that position I
would do the same, and the flowers would never miss a day, and would always be her
I want to sit with her before a window on a rainy day, curled on a couch, her head
against my shoulder, the light casting playful little shadows across the blanket and her face.
We'll look at each other and feel the love between us, so tangible and lasting. I want her to be
next to me as we watch our children, and our children's children, open their Christmas gifts.
Together we'll marvel at how such a small and simple thing as a present can bring so much
joy to a small face. After all have left, gone back to their rooms to play or back to their own
lives and their own fates and their own loves, I want to curl up with her on the couch and
share a mug of hot chocolate and laugh and cry and snuggle. And I will want that moment,
that time with the two of us together, to truly last forever.
I want to mourn when she mourns- I want to weep when she weeps- so that we both
know that we feel the same feelings.
I want a woman to spend tender moments with.
I want her to be with me when I travel around, venturing to far-off places. I want her to
be with me when I bring my dearest dream to life and go to Europe. With her. I want to treat
her to lunch in London, to dance with her in the halls of Prague, to sit with her on a
Mediterranean beach and marvel at the beauty of the setting sun. Later we'll go to Paris and
eat in a cafe and see the sights. After all that, with her beside me, I'll stand before the Iron
Giant and proclaim my love for her, and see it- the tower itself!- shift in jealousy of a feeling so
tangible, a love so eternal, that it will outlast all else- time, space, and the tiny bits of both that
we so feebly cling to and call 'Life'.
I don't know who she is. I don't know where I'll meet her. I don't dare even guess at her
name. All I know is that when I embrace her and hold her close and tell her without words all of those things, those wishes and desires and hopes and dreams of the days we'll spend
together, she'll do the perfect thing. She'll lean a little closer and I'll feel her breath against my
ear and I'll hear her say to me those three most amazing, most magical, most boggling and
most beautiful words that anyone can ever hear. “I love you.”