I have the best mom in the world. She really is the best. She’s a funny, quirky and slightly neurotic little lady, who sometimes drives me absolutely out-of-my-mind insane, but the truth is; every breath she takes, every beat her heart beats, it’s all for me. (And my brother. He’s pretty cool, too.)
But back to my mom. What makes my mom particularly awesome is that she regularly sends me presents. Before you judge me for being a spoiled brat, hear me out for a second. These are not expensive, gratuitous presents. They are more along the lines of knick-knacks, say like a new vase or a seasonal candle. Sometimes, they are practical, like a warm winter coat or a gift certificate to Trader Joe’s. Once in a while, they are a simple luxury, like a great sweater from Nordstrom. Or Forever 21. Most importantly, I love and appreciate every single one of these gifts, purely because they are from my mom.
My mom is also particularly bad at surprises. I always get the “I-sent-you-something, did-you-get-it-yet?” disclaimer. In fact, about four of them a day. I may not know what is coming, but I always know that something is.
So a few weeks ago, after a week of incessant “Did-you-check-your-mail-yet?” hounding, I got a package. From Amazon.
I opened it up to reveal a cute little book, slightly bigger than the size of my hand, with a glossy white cover and a big heart drawn on its front entitled; The Lover’s Dictionary. I absentmindedly flipped through its 212 pages, barely skimming a bunch of short definitions of random, nerdy looking vocabulary words from A-Z, and tossed it on my coffee table. “That’s just like my mom,” I thought, “I guess I didn’t know I needed a new coffee table book…”
Then another form of hounding phone calls began. “Did you read it yet?” she’d ask daily. “Not yet mom. Between my 16 meetings, five events this week, plus that yoga class I’ve been meaning to take to Zen out from all the stress in my life, I will try to find the time to read a coffee table book.”
“Oh Jessica,” my mom said in her scolding, yet ever-sweet little tone, “it’s not a coffee table book. It’s a novel. Tell me when you are done reading it.”
That’s something else about my mom…I think she has secret powers. And by that I mean, I think we are cosmically connected. I didn’t even need to tell her that I’ve been going through a really tough emotional time recently. That I’ve been listening to too much Sara Bareilles. That I’ve been too numb to write a blog, let alone read a good book, although that’s the exact thing I needed.
She already knew.
So, this book. If you know me, you know that I am a really passionate person and I get excited about a lot of things. But few things actually geek me out. I am officially geeking out over The Lover’s Dictionary. It’s a nuanced, genuine, hilarious, candid, raw, emotionally honest story about relationships, not to mention the utility of the dictionary is one of the most brilliant literary gimmicks I’ve ever seen, considering its material. Call me dramatic (um, have you met me?) but…it was somewhat life changing, or at least, perspective changing. I recommend it to anyone who’s ever loved, been loved, had their heartbroken, broken a heart, lived with their partner, online dated, broken up, gotten back together, fought like crazy, loved like crazy, or perhaps has always questioned the meaning and purpose of love entirely.
If you decide to pick it up, take from it what you will. You may hate it for all I know. But what I took away from it is that no matter how it began, what happens in between and if and when it ends, there is no definition for love.
(Except the unconditional kind, like the kind from your mom.)
So before I sign off, I’ll be Cheeky and leave you with an excerpt…
aberrant, adj.
“I don’t normally do this kind of thing,” you said.
“Neither do I,” I assured you.
Later it turned out we had both met people online before, and we both had slept with people on first dates before, and we had both found ourselves falling too fast before. Be we comforted ourselves with what we really meant to say, which was: “I don’t normally feel this good about what I’m doing.”
Measure the hope of that moment, that feeling.
Everything else will be measured against it.
