I write romance but it doesn’t mean I am a hearts and flowers, giggly pink type of girl. I’m not. I have never in my life used a glitter pen, worn a shirt with cute kittens on it or dotted my i-s with hearts. Nope, not a gushy Saccharine Sweetheart. If you are, great, buy my books some day. I write with as much tender emotion as I can dig out of my soul with a grapefruit spoon. It’s just not me.
But I recognize the appeal. Seriously, what romance writer doesn’t? I’d love for the world to be permenantly viewed through rose colored glasses by everyone. It would be a nicer place. But it isn’t.
My Father-in-law had heart surgery this morning and I couldn’t be beside my husband for a couple reasons. One, we have three school age children and live no where near family. Two, the hospitial is over 4 hours away. Three, me spending a week with hubby’s kinfolk…not a good combination.
But as I wrote this morning, eyes flicking to the phone waiting on an update call, I switched manuscripts. I went to a WIP I am slowly writing because it is difficult. It is not romance although, to me, it has exceptionally strong roots in romance.
One MC is a cardiac surgeon and as I pulled out my notes to formulate his words, something happened. I put rose colored glasses on him. Why? I wrote his wedding vows.
I share them with you now:
I’ve seen the human heart, held it in my hand, felt its beat and its warmth. It doesn’t look like a valentine. It’s not even pretty. But it is a miracle. I’ve seen hearts so badly damaged, with holes and deformities and injury from hate or neglect. I’ve seen it defy all odds and keep beating when everything says it shouldn’t. I’ve seen perfect hearts stop for reason I can’t explain and never beat again. The heart is a magnificent creation. It embodies love, feeds the soul and has a song. My heart sings for you. With one look, you became my heartbeat, something warm and real and alive inside me that l can’t let go. I love you.
Why does Alex, this scientific-minded, atheist brainiac, say such tender words? He is desperately in love and pledging his life. He heard a song that made him stop and listen.
Isn’t that the way of the world with many of us? We put out heads down, barrel through life, do our job and hope to sleep at night. But sometimes, something makes you pause, look up and hear the music. For Alex, and me, it was love. He heard it and I wrote it.
Thinking of Ron and hoping his heart carries a song for many many more years.