I wasn’t sure why I was so drawn to this statue that sits in the center of a little park in the heart of Philadelphia. But the sun was shining and it was a Saturday (meaning my husband was home and I had back-up…no trying to photograph while my boys ran wild or complained or picked fights with one another while I tried to concentrate). We all drove downtown together; Marty let me hop out at a red light when it was apparent we were not going to find a parking space in this lifetime. “Just do your thing – we’ll circle around until you’re finished,” he said. Driving repeatedly around a city block with two boys fighting in the back seat while I took hundreds of pictures? Now that’s love.
As I circled the statue and clicked away, I finally noticed that the “O” is off-kilter. Maybe it was the artist’s way of creating a perfectly square statue. But I think, actually, that lopsided “O” is meant to remind us that love isn’t perfect. I think, in my marriage, I’m often the off-kilter “O,” held in place by my husband’s steady, immovable “LVE.” Love isn’t an ideal, glamorous, glossy-magazine-spread-worthy affair. It’s not something you can define and legislate. It’s not something you can control. But if it’s the true kind, the kind that won’t fade or falter, the kind that keeps you safe and sane, and makes you hold tight to your off-kilter “O” or feel secure with your “LVE,” then you are a lucky person indeed.