On a gorgeous fall day, with the sun peeking through the leaves as they painted the world orange, I sat outside and I felt lonely. The grass beneath my fingertips was my only companion as disgustingly happy couples surrounded me.
I’ve found that as the days get shorter and the sun says goodnight earlier, it’s easy to feel like everything is falling except you. The temperature plummets, leaves tumble down branches and people fall in love. Suddenly, everyone around you is enjoying the foliage, holding hands and making heart-eyes at each other as you bundle yourself up just to keep warm. It becomes a reminder of what you don’t have rather than an appreciation of all the things you do; a fairytale you’re not part of, it’s too good to be true. But I’m here to tell you that you can fall in love too. You can fall in love tomorrow, it could even be today.
Because love at first sight is real — I’ve experienced it twice.
The first time I fell in love I was eighteen, just about to start college and entirely unprepared. My parents and I had been wandering around Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts for hours when, out of nowhere, it happened. One second I was fine and the next I was decidedly, unequivocally and wholeheartedly in love. Hanging proudly across the room from where I stood frozen, was one of Monet’s Water Lilies with its dreamlike combination of blues, purples, greens and pinks. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before not because it was earth-shattering, but because it spoke to me. That day, I found love in that painting. It was in the valleys between rising welts of paint, among the swirling shades of blue and in every stroke of pink on those petals. It was the ghost Monet’s paintbrush had left behind, forever lingering as if waiting for me to stumble along.
Two years later, it happened again. It was summer in Maine and I wasn’t expecting to cry at the Portland Museum of Art, but Monet had done it again. One second I was jumping from painting to painting and the next, I was laying on the riverbed of The Seine at Vétheuil. I saw myself in the languid reflections of the water, in the lasting impression of a scene that only Monet could see. The clouds felt like heaven and I was in a dream. I stood there for minutes as my cheeks began to ache and silent drops slid from my eyes. I just couldn’t tear myself away. The painting had strong gravity and I was more than happy to orbit forever. I had taken one look at the canvas, and I had fallen hard.
The thing about love is that most people spend a lot of their lives thinking it’s just about romance. We watch movies and read books that conjure up love stories for the ages, so when it’s not happening in your life it’s easy to feel like you’re the problem. And then fall rolls along and it’s like everyone is coupling up while you’re left behind. I’m guilty of it too, often fancying myself to be halfway in love with any guy who smiles at me when we cross paths on the way to class. It’s easy to idealize romantic relationships when you’re yearning for connection, so we tend to forget that there’s so much more to love than a romantic partner.
If you’re willing to look, you’ll see that love is everywhere.
Once you free yourself from the idea that love is only fireworks and kissing and dancing in the rain, it becomes easy to understand why the impressionists painted the way they did — they took a look at their world and they found love in it. 150 years ago they were just a group of artists who endeavored to redefine art in their own exhibition. They ventured outside the traditional studio and painted what life looked like to them regardless of what artistic conventions demanded. They captured light and its reflections with tiny brushstrokes and delicate color palettes, not aiming to reproduce reality but rather just to make an impression of its colors.
Monet found beauty in a river and a pond; a century and a half later I stumbled into a museum, took one look at his impressions and I fell in love. As it turns out, I didn’t need another person to experience that joy because love isn’t just one thing. It can simmer for years or hit you lightning quick. It can be romance or friendship or sports or art. It’s in each of your mom’s phone calls and the way you laugh with your friends. In your favorite song or a warm home-cooked meal. I fall in love with the way words twine around each other, how the sun glistens around the clouds just right and the occasional Monet.
There’s no one way to love.
So, use the impressionist’s courage as an example and strive to find the things that make an impression in your world. Find the light that speaks to your heart and fall in love with it. Fall in love with the moon and the stars. With the way you dance alone in your room and the soft rustling of leaves. Fall freely, fall often. Because you never know when you’ll turn a corner and find the next love of your life.
Rafaella Gonzalez is a junior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at [email protected].