On the Seventh Day of Christmas…

How often do you see any swans a swimming let alone seven of them?  Well I actually did one day.  I was taking a lunch time walk along the river and lo and behold, there were seven full grown swans a swimming through the muck and mire of the Mystic River.  It was strange to see the elegant fowl floating along in such numbers, disappearing under the bridge that carries the highway traffic then gracefully appearing on the other side.   Despite the beauty that day, there was an underlying sadness.

Seven swans a swimming.  If you know anything about swans then you know that there should have been an eighth swan a swimming.  They mate for life and now one swan swims alone.   What a shame, you find your soul swan and then it goes and eats a poisonous fish or gets run over by a motor boat.  Now you’re the odd swan out.  Despite the 50% divorce rate, the romantic notion of a soul mate is irresistible.  So irresistible that Hollywood makes millions off the plot line ever year.  How about Sweet November?  Or Always?  Tear jerkers.  Although in Always Holly Hunter finds another, but we all know that Brad Johnson is not Richard Dreyfuss.  I’m sure you haven’t seen the movie since whenever I make reference to it in conversation no one has seen it.  Rent it, get a box of tissues and a heaping bowl of iced cream, but I digress.

So on this seventh day of blogging, I think of those seven swans a swimming and it’s a gentle reminder of how rare and fragile love is.  So if you have it, appreciate it; if you lost it, cherish the memory of it; and if you don’t have it, join Match.com and for $50 a month you can look for it.

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