When asked when I truly understood the meaning of love--I took a deep breath and wondered if it happens in a moment or if happens through many moments, a chain of events on the journey we call life. After all, we experience life in fleeting moments--our memories chunks of time gently placed in our minds, and when put together create our life. And love is a word that encompasses everything from cliche to disaster, so perhaps to claim you know the one true meaning of love means you are leaving out a slew of possibilities. You could call them snapshots, 3x5's, puzzle pieces--yet whatever you call them, we find love, and the meaning of each sort of love, in all kinds of places and in all kinds of moments. Here are some moments in which I experience a kind of love, each unique in its own way.
The Little Mermaid
The Kalamazoo Nature Center was hosting a 3rd grade class overnight field trip--and that meant I got to use my new Little Mermaid sleeping bag with the yellow fleece inside. It also meant I would most definitely show off my already well informed skills in navigating the Nature Centers' many paths, bird houses, and rock pits.
Growing up, my dad dragged my sisters and I--head hanging low, feet scuffling along the pavement, shoulders shrugged, pained look on face, moans and groans in Oscar winning performances, overall poor attitude--to the Nature Center whenever it was a beautiful fall day. He would make us stand at the top of the same cliff overlooking the same "rock pit", standing in the same pose, each time. We used to believe this "rock pit" was an amazing archeological find along the great ravine of Kalamazoo, Michigan. In retrospect, I'd rather continue believing it was the phenomenon known to my 10 year old self, than to ever realize it is simply a bed of white rocks.
Nonetheless, when my 3rd grade class arrived at the Nature Center, I was already an expert. I knew where the owl cages were, where the forest path dipped, turned, and went up the hill. I knew that over the hill was the archeological phenomenon, that at the bottom of the stairwell was the fish pond full of huge orange popsicle colored gold fish, and that in the gift shop they sold the most amazing rock candy. We walked through the woods, saw the slimy, slithery water snakes coiled and dangling from trees along the river, and I was glad my Dad was there.
It was a crisp fall weekend, and nighttime came with its chilled night blanket. The stars twinkled and winked down at us as I snuggled into my new Little Mermaid sleeping bag with yellow fleece lining. As the night grew colder, I shivered underneath Ariel. Just before I drifted to sleep, I felt a large blanket drape over me wrapping Ariel and Sebastian in comfort. As I squinted open one eye, I saw my Dad slowly lower back to the ground next to me, lie on his back and fold his arms on his chest--with no sleeping bag or blanket. I slept safely and in warmth. This was and is not the only time my Dad has given up his comfort and warmth so that I could rest, live, grow, and fly in comfort and warmth. He doesn't say he loves me, and sometimes I think I get more acknowledgment for passing up a cookie than landing a raise--but with each oil change, bike light purchase, snail mail letter with an article about balancing finances and a quote about the importance of laughter tucked quietly behind--with each helmet lecture, appearance in the stands, and verse of Old Stuball--I know my Dad loves me, and always will.
Undefined Love
I came home one day from my first month of teaching, exhausted and lonely. I was overwhelmed by the desolate feeling that came with being surrounded by people all day.
As I opened my front door, an unexpected package lay on the ground addressed to me. I took it up the stairs to my apartment and slowly opened it. There were two pieces of cardboard with a yellow sticky note in the middle.
It read,
"Dear Corey, After our 1st!!! date, I told my mother 'I'm going to marry this woman' With love, Grandpa".
In between the two pieces of cardboard lay an old black and white photograph of my Grandma Corrine at age 18, in regal and boundless beauty. I sat there reminiscing about moments watching my Grandpa slowly reach over and place his hand atop Grandma's at the dinner table, watching as the two exited church hand in hand, listening to Grandma sing with my ears and watching Grandpa's eyes listening with his heart. I knew this was undefinable love--but whatever was not being defined, I wanted it. Life can be measured in any number of ways--or it can be lived, felt, enjoyed, and loved.
Wall Lake Ulmer Family
Morning comes quietly, mist blankets the glass mirror lake
Coffee smells, comfort in a rocking chair as the early sun warms the skin
Quiet conversation, glances across the lake, pajamas, messy hair, no care.
Runs are devotional, silent and meditative.
Sun beaming, scorching, balmy as bathing suits and boats come out.
The sultry afternoon begs for sun-bathing, laughter, and love.
Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Moms, Dads, Brothers, Sisters--
The water kisses your skin with each plunge and the breeze warms the heart.
Evening shoots blazes across the sky leaving an afterglow of heavenly splendor
The sweet smells of grilling, sounds of games and chuckles fill the air
Fire crackles and talks of nonsense, Rawhide, Stuball, and pirates
Wall Lake means love, family, and acceptance--it wouldn't be the same if we weren't all there.
Friends visit and ask if we ever argue
People across the lake want to know how we get our bon fire so big
And we say it's deep rooted and it's in the gut of our laughter, the soul in our kitchens, the spirit in our drinks,
It’s in the hope in our hugs, and the support in our steps.
And it wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t all there.
The One Who Didn't Chase
There was a running joke in my house that as soon as a boy bought me flowers, he could be assured I would not call back again. This one bought me flowers once, and I spent tears wishing he would buy me more. He never did.
It was a quintessential young love when I breathed for anything but quintessential. I wanted a forever story with a man who would never talk for me, let me lead the dances, and never mention the extra fat on my stomach. Our 1920's Lincoln Park apartment harbored much laughter and romance on its parquet floors and in the dark mahogany woodwork. The night I left I thought I was giving him a good dose of his own medicine. He came home late, whiskey on his breath, stumbles in his steps, and tried to pretend like he was righteous. When I tried to ask him to talk he remained limp and when he moved out he took nothing but his clothes, the mattress, and the box of condoms.
I tried to be brave, pretending like I knew it was 'for the better'. When people would ask I'd mention any number of the notorious break up retorts, but walked on tear eggshells. I wrote him a letter--and when I never heard back, when he never called, when he never wrote, when he never chased--I knew what we had was love, and what I had lost was love--dysfunctional, naive, beautiful love.
She held me
I remember her holding me because I remember the song
Rocking gently back and forth, I must have laid on her chest listening to the beat of her heart, lulled by the sound that brought me into this world,
She sang mighty, let me walk off the dock and then taught me to swim.
I remember her holding me because I remember the pain and puss
She held me when my ear drum burst, fluid draining out of my ear onto her shirt, she gently rocked me patiently waiting for the medicine to take hold and slumber to come
I remember her holding me because I remember the shame
She held me when my friends at school called me fat and the boys made fun of my chest, she let my sobs become her burden and listened until there were none
I remember her holding me because I remember the frustration
She held me when all I wanted was a championship, to put enough points on the board and to grab enough rebounds from the air to win, she listened and then let me stay late after practice for thousands of shots, millions of dribbles, and trillions of tries.
I remember her holding me because I remember knowing it would be okay
She held me when he wouldn't any longer and I felt lost, she helped me forget who he was and remember who I was,
and now I will forever know what it means to love a daughter with everything in your soul.
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