Me Myself and Ty

I loved Phill, too.

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While doing some volunteer work that will be discussed WAY MORE extensively in a future post, I found the above on a desk that was donated. I was asked, promptly to destroy said desk, but I snapped this picture of one of the panels before it was loaded onto the truck to be taken to the dump.

I started imagining who had written it, what the author’s story was, and what I decided left me in a LoveAddict state of happiness.

Clearly this was the desk of someone, who, at one point loved someone named Phill. She (let’s assume, because he/she doesn’t read well) loved Phill enough to write it in pencil on her desk.

Think about how temporary pencil markings are. A finger can smudge it away, but the message lasts as long as you remember. I’d like to think that’s why desk girl chose not to erase it – for the memory that inspired her inked message, which I read as “I loveD.”

It’s a funny thing, love, and I know that all this post really does is to rehash the most ridiculous saying in the English language about loving and losing being better than never loving at all, but this image got to me.

Imagine at the end of your life how you’ll feel when you can embrace the notion that you, regardless of what you never accomplished, loved.

Maybe it was a dog. Maybe it was a spouse. Maybe it was a baseball team or a car, but it seems to me that a life in which you get the rush of loving something beats the hell out of going through life having never felt it.

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