I’m in mourning over the Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert divorce. More upset than I probably should be for a couple I didn’t know. Based on the social media explosion, I’m not the only one.
Once again, we are reminded that no matter how perfect life appears, things aren’t always as they seem.
Perfection belongs to fairy tales and movie endings and romance novels. Real life is just that—real. The stuff of country songs.
Here’s the thing. We needed to believe in the love affair of Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert. Even though they are both gorgeous and charming and make more money in a month than most earn in a lifetime, they seemed normal. And real. Like best friends from high school or the boyfriend that got away.
He mows his own grass with a push mower.
She struggles with weight issues.
They lived in Oklahoma by choice.
What happened to the vows and the to death do us part part?
She was supposed to be his Little Loretta, his sugar, his honeysuckle.
He was gonna be her Conway Twitty, her sweet iced tea, her honey bee.
Sometimes, that’s the way love goes.
But it’s sad. Romeo and Juliet sad. Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere sad. George and Tammy sad.
At least my cardinals (named Blake and Miranda) are still a couple. They’re eating breakfast together this morning outside my kitchen window. Thank goodness for that.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
George Jones, He Stopped Loving Her Today
Merle Haggard, That’s the Way Love Goes