Love Is Not The Same

by Lion Goodman

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I woke up in bed, opened my eyes, and turned to look at my partner, Carista. She was still sleeping, one arm over her eyes, breathing softly.  I felt my love for her. It was deep and profound, like the ocean.

My former partner came to mind, and I felt my love for her.  It was still there, where it had always been, in spite of the fact that we had separated many years ago.  I recognized that these two loves were not the same.  They each had a unique shape and quality.  Both were real, both were beautiful.  But different.

Extending this gentle inquiry, I thought of the many women I had loved throughout my lifetime.  My wife.  My daughter.  My first girlfriend at the tender age of 13.  The love I felt for each one matched each woman’s uniqueness, and her particular qualities of beauty, intelligence, form, and fire.

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