The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted (2011)
“Everything I wrote, in my thirteen-year-old’s handwriting, was simple, beautiful, honest. Come home. Come home. Come home, I wrote. If you don’t, I still won’t stop loving you. My love can go on forever and ever.
When I folded the letters in with the recipes and closed the charred box with its small latch, I thought, What if the things I’ve wondered about love all have some truth to them?
Love is infinite. Grief can lead to love. Love can lead to grief. Grief is a love story told backward just ...as love is a grief story told backward. Every good love story has many loves hiding within it.
Maybe I should put it this way. Imagine a snow globe.
Imagine a tiny snow-struck house inside of it. But this time the woman stands at the window, and there are no screens. She cranks the window wide open.
And it is not a snow-struck house. The snow isn’t snow at all.
It never was.
The snow is really Bath whites—their white wings with black dots—a beautiful storm of them.
And the house isn’t a quiet house.MoreLess
When I folded the letters in with the recipes and closed the charred box with its small latch, I thought, What if the things I’ve wondered about love all have some truth to them?
Love is infinite. Grief can lead to love. Love can lead to grief. Grief is a love story told backward just ...as love is a grief story told backward. Every good love story has many loves hiding within it.
Maybe I should put it this way. Imagine a snow globe.
Imagine a tiny snow-struck house inside of it. But this time the woman stands at the window, and there are no screens. She cranks the window wide open.
And it is not a snow-struck house. The snow isn’t snow at all.
It never was.
The snow is really Bath whites—their white wings with black dots—a beautiful storm of them.
And the house isn’t a quiet house.MoreLess
Read book The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted for free
Write Review:
User Reviews: