Love Is a Battlefield

Love Is a Battlefield

Love Is a Battlefield

Yesterday was just like any ordinary day in the life of me, Emily Dickinson; although, the most interesting thing happened. For the first time in 5 years, I was asked out on a date. The man who wished to take me out was decent looking, seemed fairly nice, and goes by the name Walt Whitman. Given that it has been a lonely 5 years, I agreed. "I'll pick you up at 7:00 and we will enjoy a lovely evening at the French restaurant downtown," said Walt as he drove away. "Sounds great!" I mumbled to myself. There was no telling how my first time back in the dating ring was going to go, but you never know until you try.

Before I knew it, Walt was standing on my doorstep asking if I was ready for our evening out. It all felt very strange to me for I don't get out much. Walt escorted me to our ride for the evening, which turned out to be a much unexpected carriage. As we were riding along, we passed the fields of grazing grain and we passed the setting sun. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. Things were already feeling a bit awkward, and it seemed as though neither of us knew what we had gotten ourselves into.

To break the ice, I asked Mr. Whitman what his greatest fears were. He responded with the following: the fear everybody hating his pieces, and the fear of there coming a time when everybody stops listening to his views and opinions. He then asked me the same question. I simply told him I feared death. However, slowly but surely, I am getting over my fear. I shared with Walt how after my mother and father died, I realized how short life is, which caused me to begin having a fear of death. "Since then- ‘tis centuries- and yet feels shorter than the day," I told Walt. "What makes you so scared about the shortening of life?" asked Walt. "I think just the fact that I am afraid my life will end before I have enough time to do all the things I want to do and accomplish all the things I would like to accomplish while living." "Ah, yes. I agree with you on that one, Emily," Walt replied. "In fact," Walt exclaimed, "I, now thirty seven years old in perfect health begin, hoping to cease not till death." He told me that although he is hoping to not die anytime soon, that he once heard from a wise friend, "to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier." I agreed with him for the most part, but that fear still lay inside me. After that, neither of us really had anything more to say on the subject. Once that conversation was nearly over, the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.

Another awkward pause gave me time to think of a new conversation starter. Walt had been staring out into the nature for quite some time now, so I thought to ask him what he was seeing. We just so happened to be passing the park, and he said, "I see the wife misused by her husband." He further elaborated on the statement, telling me that this man must have been punishing his wife for forgetting to do the dishes or washing the laundry since that's what most couples fought about these days. "Also, the husband's skin is darker then the