The letters’ edges are beginning to fray, and decades of time have cast a yellow tint on the fragile notebook paper. The date, 1971, is inscribed on the upper right-hand corner. The handwriting is eager, longing; and the sentences are sweet and amorous: “It’s difficult for me to explain how I felt when your plane took off,” and “I love you Karen and at times it so fills me with warmth.” Sweet love prose is sprinkled throughout the letters Greg and Karen Jeane exchanged while they were apart. She had kept them in a cherished box for 50 years.
They say best friends make the best lovers, but we all know there are no absolutes when it comes to love. Love is fluid. Love is always in motion—mysterious, demanding, ubiquitous, and hard to find at the same time. In his famous book, “The Prophet,” 19th-century poet Khalil Gibran said this about love:
When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
Karen and Greg Jeane’s love blossomed from their close friendship while attending the University of Georgia. They went to lunch and swimming and other activities with others and as friends. Karen had been dating someone else. But when she returned home for the summer, something happened that drastically changed the course of her life.
“I never thought of Greg other than a friend, and I kept on saying, ‘my friend Greg,’ and, ‘my friend Greg.’ My mother said, ‘I wish you would stop referring to him as “my friend.” He’s obviously more than that.’”
