The Perfect Heart ❤️
A story I told on Valentine's Day
Last Valentine’s Day (February 14th), I told a short story in Dutch.
Here’s the English version, just for you. 🥰
In a land far, far away, live people just like you and me;
People who love, who hurt, who laugh, who cry, who hope.
There is one difference, though.
They can reach inside their chests with their hands and take their heart out of their bodies.
Their hearts look beautiful, not a bloody muscle like ours, but a squishy red heart-shaped lump.
Each year, in every city, people gather in the center to celebrate the Festival of the Heart.
At such a festival in one of the cities, a young man was announced on the stage.
“This young man has the perfect heart: no cracks, no lines, a beautiful red shiny color and… perfect symmetry.”
Everybody applauded the young man. He reached inside, pulled out his heart, and held it high for all to see.
A sigh went through the crowd. You could feel the mix of wonder, jealousy, shame, and desire go through the onlookers.
Suddenly, an old grey-haired man with a stick walked towards the stage.
“No,” he said, “this is not the perfect heart.”
The young man was taken aback.
Then he said, “Well, show us yours then.”
The old man climbed the stage, put down his stick, carefully took out his heart, and held it up for all to see.
The young man looked scared.
The heart looked like it could fall apart any minute.
It consisted of various pieces of different shades of red and brown that barely held together. There were cracks throughout, and even some chunks ripped off.
The old man smiled.
“Once,” he said, “I had a heart like yours.”
“What happened, old man, with your heart? What are all these pieces with different colors?”
“My boy, during my life, I’ve loved many people. They gave me a piece of their heart, and I gave them a piece of mine. And while I haven’t seen many of them for a long time, I carry them with me in my heart.”
“Why does your heart look like it has been torn and ripped apart in places?”
The old man sighed and looked at the audience.
“Sometimes in life, things break. We returned the pieces of the other’s heart, but they never fit perfectly anymore. That’s the cracks and ragged edges.”
The young man pondered and asked a last question.
“What about these pieces of your heart that are missing.”
It was silent before the old man spoke again: “Dear boy, sometimes in life, you will meet people you give a part of your heart, and all they do is take and take. They never give back.”
Carefully and tenderly, the old man put his heart back, grabbed his walking stick, and left the stage.
The young man looked at his own heart—it was so perfect. Then he looked at the back of the old man, shuffling away.
“Wait!”
The old man turned around.
“Thank you,” the young man said.
The old man looked him intently in the eyes. He got out his heart. He broke a little part off the corner and offered it to the young man.
The young man held out his hand and bowed, receiving part of the old man’s heart. With tears in his eyes, he broke off a piece of his own heart and handed it to the old man.
Each fitted the piece into their heart, and they hugged each other.
That night, before the young man went to sleep, he took out his heart and decided that when he grew old, he wanted to have a heart as perfect and beautiful as the old man's.
There are a few different versions of this story online (for example), and I remember reading it once in a book, but I haven’t been able to determine its source.
Mooie versie, die van jou!