michelle is like blood to me. kin. a sister. the best way to sum her up in that she loves people well. she is the most thoughtful person i have ever had the honor to know up close. she began, years ago, as our babysitter, then assistant to me, office manager and has traveled the country to be by my side at countless workshops, becoming my confidant of every thought within the corners of my mind. she's seen me at my worst and loved me just the same. she gives openly. she does not judge. she never seems to think of herself and makes every person she encounters feel that they are the most treasured in all the world. these words seem insufficient and cheap even compared to how closely i hold michelle to my heart.
i didn't think it would be possible for any man to be worthy of a love like hers. but then we met kellan. she brought him to our home last year for us to meet him for the first time during our workshop reunion. it was a busy weekend but i watched from afar as he and michelle would giggle and kiss when no one was looking, he did dishes with a smile, he danced with michelle in our kitchen, just purely exuding sweetness. i realized that he was her perfect match… the same soul existing in two bodies. when i attended their wedding in round top, texas at rachel ashwell's the prairie last month, i listened to hundreds of their friends and family say almost the exact same thing about them. these two, they are pure joy. they are each wise and established on their own… they didn't need to find another person to be complete, however, they make each other so much more alive for being together. they are a blossoming tree. and each of us that passes by their fragrance is left better because of it.
“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.” ― Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli's Mandolin