Love. What could I possibly say about love?
As much as I tend to talk about it usually, being asked directly to adress the subject, my brain froze. Well, not froze-froze, since it is still very hot in Montréal these days, but I kept staring at my ‘new post’ page, wondering.
I thought about love, and wondered where I had learned about it. Of course, my parents had taught me by being an example to follow, but they never lectured me, as a child, about love. I guess they figured I would have to learn by myself, just like they had themselves.
Of course, as a little girl, I knew about all the princess stories. Snow White, Cinderella and the like. But I think that even that young, I already felt I was not a princess. And I’d never be one. Not by lack of ambition, or self esteem, but I just wasn’t attracted to the ‘happy ever after’ tales.
One day, I met ‘Le Petit Prince’ from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
I must have been four or five back then, maybe even younger, when grandma put the vinyl record on for the first time, and handed me the book to ‘follow’ the story. I had headphones way too big for my little head, and I couldn’t read the words, but I let the narrator’s deep, soothing voice take me by the hand, and walk me through the chapters.
I believe the tale about the Little Prince and his Rose, was my first love story. I didn’t really understand it at the time, but I listened closely nonetheless. And everytime we visited grandma, I would ask her to put the record on for me.
As the years passed by, I grew to be more comfortable in the big headphones, and I learned to read. I kept listening, relentlessly, and reading along the story that had rocked me as a lullaby earlier in life.
Time passed. I fell in love. I fell out of love. I experienced the extasy of loving, and the pain of not being loved. But every now and then, I came back to my Little Prince. Not really questionning the story and the lesson it was supposed to teach me, but rather wrapping myself into it, as if it were a warm blanket…
Now, looking back, I understand that the Little Prince and his Rose taught me a lot of what I know about love. I have never been on the lookout for Prince Charming. I never wished for what others considered good looks, never longed for a wealthy boyfriend. I didn’t care if he didn’t have a car, he could hold my hand in the bus, and it made no difference.
And it is probably why I had such painful breakups. Because I never parted paths with cute guys treating me like a princess… I had to let go of gorgeous souls.
And all these years, I just longed to be someone’s Rose.