Part of a love story

Elbows leaned on the brick red counter-top; I squint into the bright night air, a combination of New York City’s Christmas lights along with the white ice of Central Park’s rink.  The air is chilly, but my palms still clammy from the thrill of feeling out of control atop the blue and silver rental blades.  Figure skating has always been easy to watch on television, but I have a new found respect for the balance and control those athletes possess.  I am thankful to be taking a break, and so are my shaky legs.  Watching others skate inside the rink works to soothe my injured pride.  There are many people who resemble my skating abilities, struggling to place one foot in front of the other and glide forward.  Of course, in the mix there are the seasoned veterans who can whip out a triple sow cow or whatever.  Among all of the strangers, my eyes seek out a particularly entertaining pair.  My boyfriend (Casey) is teaching one of our mutual female friends how to skate.  They are both laughing, and barely moving.  Someone slips and crashes down near them, splashing melted ice water on them.  I giggle out loud while watching them.  As they skirt past my observation post, a thought flickers across my mind.  “I love him.”   Wait…what?  Rewind!  What is my brain thinking?   Instinctually, the corners of my mouth pull into a slight smile.  I shake my head, take a deep breath, and attempt to evaluate.  Except this time, the thought is not a fleeting one.   I say it slowly in my mind.  “I…love…him.”  In that moment of my life, love made more sense to me than ever before.  I finally had a greater perspective on the difference between romantic love and love that is shared by family and friends.  Falling in love or romantic love is not just a dizzy tizzy feeling in your stomach.  Although, those butterflies can feel very alive, it is or should not be what drives us to want to spend the rest of our lives with someone.  On the other hand, love is not just hugs, kisses, and Christmas presents from parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.  Of course, I am not making light of family love, because it is real and special.  However, love is an action; or rather, a series of actions that should never stop.  I had heard that phrase before, but had never really meditated upon the meaning of it.   As I watched Casey instruct our friend out on the ice, and saw how patient he was, I realized he was doing it out of love.  It was completely platonic, because he views her as a sister, but love nonetheless.  Consequently, even though I was a complete klutz, he still happily skated with me. Casey validated his love by the way he assisted me, and the attitude he had while doing it.  He was cheering for me, just like always.   I knew he loved me before he ever told me, because it showed again and again.  I caught on to the loving actions, and that naturally triggered my initial “I love him” thought.  More proof?  Amazingly, he still wanted to spend time with me, whether I had an emotional break down or spent the day laughing with him.  These collective ramblings remind me of another phrase.  “Actions speak louder than words.”  In this story, that has never been more accurate.  Words are a typical way of interacting one another, but actions lead to the greatest form of communicating intent and commitment.

Blurry because they are stolen from facebook - photographer, Nathan Jones.

New York, December 2008.