the empty vase
I saw tulips on sale the other day.
Not just on sale, either. Actually a good deal.
And because tulips are my favorite flowers, I stood there for a while trying to decide which ones I wanted.
I could already picture them at home. Probably on the table, in one of the vases I rarely have an excuse to use.
Then I remembered.
Tulips are toxic to cats.
I considered putting them somewhere they couldn’t reach, but since cats are basically Victorian toddlers with no regard for their own mortality, that felt a little too optimistic.
So I left them there.
It wasn't some great act of sacrifice. I don't even think I was particularly disappointed. I just decided against the flowers and went on with my day.
But I've thought about it a few times since.
I think we tend to imagine love by what it makes us willing to give.
We buy things for people. We make room for them. We give them our time, our attention, parts of our lives that used to belong only to us.
But I wonder if love can also be found in what we willingly go without.
Not necessarily in the enormous sacrifices people write books about.
Sometimes it's much quieter than that. Something you want, something you could have, and the realization that loving something else has made the decision surprisingly easy.
Maybe that's the strange thing about giving something up for love. Sometimes it doesn't feel very much like losing at all.
You simply find that there are things you'd rather have than the thing you wanted.
Some things I love deserve a place in a vase.
And some things I love are the reason the vase stays empty.