Love

Isn’t love a fascinating word? We overuse it, I think. I am no exception: I love this, I love that, people, places, things, activities. But perhaps it isn’t the word so much as is the occasion and intonation. I love you whispered in a lover’s ear is very different from hell yes I love these chips and dip. :-)

At this time of year I think more about romantic love. Interesting, isn’t it, that the idea of marrying for romance, attraction, and passion are relatively new concepts. In days of yore couples were assigned via their parents, or they married for purely practical reasons. Falling in love as a reason for marriage was foreign.

Romance as we know it was born around the time of the middle ages and courtly love; a young noble woman clutching the handkerchief of a great knight is etched in our universal memory. Of course, the woman was not married to the knight. Sometimes we forget that part. Our modern concept of romantic love has changed to mean having that twitterpated feeling towards our mate. Marrying without love today seems rather cold and calculating, at least in the western world.

Valentine customs reflect our obsession with falling in love. And while cards and gifts today are wonderful, often we get carried away with expense and over the top celebrations. If you are ever in an antique store, check out the Valentine’s Day cards and postcards. Their simple sentiments were often the only gift given by sweethearts. Here is a story I wrote a few years ago about vintage postcards. I won a prize with it in a Christmas contest, but I think it applies even better for Valentine’s Day.

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Season’s Greetings

Carolyn accepted the invitation to go antiquing, but her heart really wasn’t in it. It felt like a mercy invite. And she felt bad about the thought immediately.

Her friends Jane and Jerry had been nothing but supportive and helpful during her recent divorce, but that didn’t help Carolyn from feeling like a third wheel whenever the three of them were together. She assesed hew new apartment with a hardened gaze; there wasn’t space enough for anything else, even if she did find something wonderful.

She had purposely downsized when she’d left her married home, vowing to live uncluttered for once in her life. Even so, she’d come away with more than enough furniture and knickknacks to supply the apartment.

She pulled her coat close as she walked to her car; the cold wind was an unwanted reminder that the holidays were near. Just thinking about it was depressing. She sighed as she passed a window full of flashing lights. At least Jane hadn’t suggested a holiday outing.

The car started without a problem and Carolyn was grateful for that, as mechanical chores had always been her husband’s domain. She arrived at her friend’s home and pulled into the driveway. She sat there for a moment. The house shown warmly with multicolored lights, both inside and out. Carolyn hadn’t decorated and wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

She walked slowly up the sidewalk and was about to knock when Jane flung the door open. The scent of freshly baked cookies met Carolyn as she entered, and Jane gave her a big hug.

“I’m so glad you could come.”

Jerry appeared behind his wife. Carolyn felt a knot in her throat when he put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Me, too…glad to have you along,” he said, somewhat awkwardly.

Carolyn pasted a smile on her face.

Jane, blessedly, was the chatty sort. On the way to the antique mall, she related what she and Jerry were looking for…antique ornaments, perhaps a set of glasses for their annual Yule party, and maybe a rocking chair if they could find one. Carolyn listened halfheartedly. Ornaments, parties, and rocking chairs seemed so domestic.

“What are you looking for?”

Carolyn almost jumped. “Um…what?”

Jane laughed. “What are you looking for at the mall…anything special?”

Carolyn suddenly felt peevish. She wanted to say she had no room for anything, she didn’t have much money, and why would she want to look for holiday items at a time like this, but she knew her friend meant well.

“I…I’m not sure. Anything that catches my eye, I guess.”

Jane nodded, seemingly pleased with her answer. Carolyn listened as Jane talked more about the party, even now constructing a plausible excuse for not coming. He would be there, and he wouldn’t be alone.

Tears almost sprang to her eyes thinking of her ex-husband, but she willed them away. It was done and over with. She sneaked a look at Jane, who was eyeing her suspiciously. Carolyn forced a smile, tired of feeling like a social leaper.

They spent the next few hours wandering through the mall, sometimes together, but most of the time Carolyn let Jane and Jerry get ahead of her. She caught them kissing under a faded wreath and wished fervently she’d stayed home. She grabbed the first thing she could find on a nearby desk, pretending she hadn’t seen them.

She was about to discard the stack of what she had thought were old photographs, when a bright bit of glitter caught her eye. She held one up and realized they were old postcards, not photos. She almost smiled at a skating scene, complete with Victorian couples drifting across the ice and gilt letters proclaiming “Joyous Christmas.” She rubbed her fingers across the surface and was surprised to find the glitter still intact.

“Whatcha got?”

She was still smiling when she looked up at Jane. “Oh, nothing…just an old postcard.”

She handed it to Jane, who studied it carefully. “You know, vintage postcards are really pretty. People collect them, you know. Especially the Christmas ones.”

Carolyn took it back. Postcards were small. They wouldn’t take up much room. She put it to the side and sorted through the others, but there were no more holiday specimens. In fact, there were no other holiday themed postcards anywhere else in the mall. Carolyn was somewhat disappointed, but still happy she had found something to collect.

Jane and Jerry paid for the box of old ornaments they’d found, and Carolyn gave exactly one dollar for her postcard. Jane invited her in for cookies and hot chocolate when they returned to the house, but Carolyn politely declined. A glass of wine sounded much better.

Home at last, she poured herself a generous serving and sat down at her kitchen table. She examined the postcard again. It truly was an exquisite piece of artwork. The skaters were delicately done, and upon exanimation she discovered even more details. Trees rimmed the frozen pond, and there was a fire burning merrily at the edge of the ice. A bench was set close to the flames, presumably there to warm the skaters. She looked closer. There was no one sitting at the bench. That was odd, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t someone be enjoying the fire?

Carolyn shook her head, almost laughing. It wasn’t a real scene. It was just a drawing. She went looking for an old photo album to house her new find. She knew it was empty, having dumped every picture out of it before moving.

But it wasn’t completely blank; one photo fell out as she opened the album. Tears streamed down her face as she gazed upon a seemingly happy couple in front of a heavily decorated tree. It had to be a holiday photo, she thought darkly.

Carolyn tore it to shreds, lighted her fireplace, and threw it in. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a wish to find someone new, someone who would treasure her forever. She heard the fire pop and crackle. The wind whooshed down the chimney, throwing bright embers into the room.

She jumped back, then laughed at her silliness. It was just the wind, after all. Carolyn spent the next hour on eBay looking for vintage holiday postcards, but she couldn’t find any she liked. When her eyes grew heavy she closed down her computer, deciding she would visit another antique mall in the morning.

But she looked at the postcard once more and sucked in her breath: there was someone sitting on the bench beside the fire.

She shook her head. She was sure there hadn’t been anyone there, but then, it had been a long day. Perhaps she hadn’t looked closely enough the first time. Carolyn turned the card over. It was postmarked December fifteenth, 1918. The aristocratic script said simply, “Holiday wishes do come true.” It seemed an unusual message to send via a postcard. She flipped it over again, half expecting to see that something or someone had moved, but it was exactly the same; couples gliding across the smooth surface, and one lone figure at the fire.

Carolyn smiled at her apparently over-active imagination and went to bed, happier than she’d been in a long time. She awoke to a real anticipation at looking for more postcards. She knew it was probably silly to get this excited over a hobby, but glad of the feeling. It had been a long time.

She ate a quick breakfast and drove to the mall across town. The proprietor asked what she was looking for, and pointed towards the back of the mall when she told him. Carolyn found a huge box of old postcards, and spent the next hour happily sorting through them. She found a laughing Santa, a charming Victorian girl in an ermine-trimmed coat, and a gentleman standing in the doorway of an evergreen festooned house. The long ago sentiments echoing sweetly over time cheered her: “Be seeing you soon,” “My love to my dear granddaughter,” “Carolyn, I miss you so”…

Carolyn dropped the cards, a chill radiating through her body. What had that last card said? She picked it up carefully. It was the one with the man in front of the large house. Her hands shook as she read the words again, and turned it over. The man smiled back at her.

She laughed out loud. What exactly, had she expected? For the man to tip his hat? Invite her in? Carolyn looked through the rest of postcards, finally deciding on the one that had so amused her. She was still grinning when she paid for it. The proprietor reached under the desk and gave her a box of postcards he had forgotten about, commenting on her beautiful smile and happy outlook.

Carolyn thought it funny that anyone would think her happy, but did believe the postcards would be a good hobby. They made her smile and had somehow evoked her creative side. Her ex-husband had discouraged any kind of fanciful thinking, and she supposed her imagination, now let out of its cage, was running wild and free.

Upon her return she carefully placed both cards into her album, and poured a glass of wine. She started a fire and decided to spend the evening looking through the box of cards that had been given to her. Most were of the mundane variety…pastoral scenes, travel interest, and the like. Her hand touched something rough at the bottom of the box, and hoped what she was feeling was glitter.

And it was. In fact, there was so much of it the carpet sparkled as if covered in a light dusting of snow. She examined the card closely. A man sat next to decorated tree, a glass of wine held out as if toasting someone. Carolyn swallowed hard. Her heart beating rapidly, she opened the album, and shakily pulled out the card with the man in front of the house.

It was the same person.

She shut her eyes, and willed her heart to slow. It couldn’t be, she thought, my imagination truly is getting the better of me, maybe Jack was right…

Carolyn slammed the album shut. No. She wasn’t too fanciful. She wasn’t a space case. And she wasn’t stupid.

She picked up the card with the holiday tree again and turned it over, half expecting to see her name on this one too. But there was only a curious verse, which she read to herself:

Yuletide wishes do come true
Love can be ignited new
The flame that burns away the past
Can find the one to make love last

Carolyn carefully read the backs of the cards once more: Holiday wishes do come true, Carolyn, I miss you so, and read the strange verse again. She compared the second and third cards; it was the same man. She shivered and hugged herself. It was all a coincidence, she decided. Nothing more.

Carolyn, I miss you so…

She jumped and put her glass down, panicked. Someone was in the house. She checked the door and windows. She even looked in the closet, but no one was there. She poured the remainder of her wine down the drain. Fanciful thinking was one thing. Hearing voices boarded on crazy.

She heard distant singing and thought for a moment she was imagining that too, but realized it was only holiday carolers. She went to the window. It was snowing. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden; a walk in the snow listening to carols would have been so romantic.

Carolyn walked to the fireplace and sank down in front of the fire, sobbing. A wind whistled down the fireplace, swirling the embers as it had when she had thrown in the last picture of her ex.
She grabbed the card with verse:

The flame that burns away the past…

She knew it was silly. Maybe even crazy. And perhaps destructive of her new hobby, but she felt compelled nonetheless. She threw the card into the flames. The glittering surface flashed brightly before it disappeared. Another card quickly joined the first. Carolyn hesitated for a moment before throwing in the last postcard; the scene of the skaters was her favorite. Finally she took a deep breath and threw it in. It hovered over the flames, then alighted gently on the hearth.

But there was no one there to see it.

***

Jane coughed as she dusted off the countertops in Carolyn’s apartment. She sniffed a little, vowing not to cry. It had been a year since her friend had disappeared. The authorities had finally proclaimed Carolyn missing, presumed dead.

She had been somewhat surprised when Carolyn’s lawyer told her she was the beneficiary of the estate, but then, her friend had no family to speak of. At least, none that she would leave anything to.

Jane finished her dusting and decided to light a fire to relax. Deciding what to keep and what to dispose of was both arduous and painful. She sank down by the fire and found an old postcard lying next to the hearth. She smiled, remembering how excited Carolyn had been starting her new collection. She picked it up, and realized it was the one her friend had bought the day they had all gone antiquing. Tears rolled down her face as she studied the quaint imagines of couples skating across the frozen pond, one couple warming their hands by a nearby fire. She flipped over the card on an impulse, and her heart stopped when she read the words:

Dear Jane, I’m happy. Love, Carolyn.

She sat there as if frozen until a wind whistled down the chimney, sweeping the card away from her and into the flame. It sparkled red and green before turning to ash.

She shook her head. It couldn’t be. It was just the stress of cleaning out the apartment. She stood up and started dusting furiously. There had been something else too, something Jane had seen just before the card had blown out of her hand. She shivered, even though the room was warm.

The fire by the edge of the frozen pond had been flickering.

And the man and woman sitting on the bench were waving.