It is remarkable how fragile great, eternal love has become. In the past, a promise, a look into each other’s eyes, or simply the honest feeling of having found the right person was enough. Today, a padlock from a souvenir shop seems indispensable. Only when it dangles from a bridge and the key dramatically sinks into the river is love suddenly supposed to be unbreakable.
Of all things, historic bridges must now bear the burden of thousands of declarations of love. Paris has known the problem for years; Marseille, Nice and now Colmar are also pulling the emergency brake. Not because the cities have anything against romance – but because bridges eventually do suffer under the weight of these metallic emotional outbursts. What a bitter irony: of all things, love threatens to make bridges collapse.
This raises an uncomfortable question. Who even feels the urge to secure their love with a lock? People who are truly confident in their relationship? Or perhaps rather those who secretly hope that a piece of steel can hold on to what has already begun to falter in their hearts?
The truth is often sobering. The key lands in the water, the lock remains behind – and years later, all that often remains of the great love is a rusty memento. Relationships break apart. People change. The lock continues to hang from the railing, a silent witness to a promise long overtaken by everyday life.
Love cannot be locked away. It thrives on trust, respect, shared memories and the willingness to be there for one another anew each day. No metal in the world can replace an open conversation. No engraved name can prevent a crisis. No padlock can turn an unstable relationship into a stable one.
Perhaps that is where the real romance lies. Not chaining the person by your side to you, but choosing to stay with them every day. Without a symbol, without spectacle, without a lock.
Because love that lasts only because it has been locked up was probably never truly free.
C. Hatty