gloves or mittens?
I picked up a little polka-dotted mitten that was inadvertently left behind by a sweet blonde three-year-old as I walked through the park. She saw me walking toward her and said in her most grown-up-voice, “Oh, hello.”
“Hi sweet one. I think you dropped one of your gloves,” I said, displaying the mitten.
“Ah, yes. That is my glove,” she replied, taking the mitten from my hand and leaving me smiling at how adult she sounded.
The rec center was closed when I arrived at it, so I turned around and began my chilly walk back home, passing once again the little girl and her mother, who was kneeling down, trying to clip the mittens onto the little girl’s jacket. The little girl’s sister was about six and busied herself by pacing back and forth a very precise and imaginary straight line.
The mom looked over her shoulder at the older daughter. “Where are your gloves?”
Without looking up from the imaginary path she was on, the older girl replied, “I don’t have them.” I was impressed that she was so blunt. I would have tried to make up a story if my mom had asked me – even at the age of twenty-five.
There was a moment of pause as the mom first gave her full attention to completing the attachment of the youngest girl’s glove. She leaned back onto her heels and zipped up her own jacket. “Well, when your hands start to get cold, don’t be asking me where your gloves are.”
The older daughter looked up from her unseen balance beam at her mother. “I won’t be asking where my gloves are. I’ll KNOW where my pockets are.”
I didn’t mean to, but I laughed aloud. “She’s awfully resourceful, ain’t she?” I said, smiling at the mom. She must have been proud that her daughter has her own way of seeing things.
– – – – –
I sat down to eat my lunch at Whole Foods after I taught class last week. I flipped open the Boulder Weekly that had been left behind on the table I was at and landed on the horoscopes.
“Just because somebody doesn’t always love you the way you wish they would doesn’t mean they don’t love you the best they can and with all they have.”
It was one of those sorts of sentences that stop you mid-salad-crunching bite.
It’s perspective. It’s HOW you allow yourself to be loved and how you allow yourself TO LOVE. I know I’ve loved before and not had it reciprocated the way I always imagined it would be. And I’ve been loved before and not reciprocated it the way they had hoped me to.
It’s that little girl without the gloves. She knew that being cold was a possibility, but her way of finding warmth was different than the idea her mom had. As long as you know you’ll find the warmth you need, you have to do it the way that best serves you. For her, she didn’t want to lug around the mittens. I completely understand that.
For some, love might mean persistent attention. Consistent affirmation. Continued abolishment of doubts and insecurities. For others, love may mean the opposite of that; it may be considered an agreement unspoken. Doting is seen as unnecessary.
And what happens when those two sides collide in a partnership? Well, honestly, it can be like dating a very whiny puppy. Or, on the other hand, like dating a ghost.
I’ve dated both.
Maybe it’s got something to do with your preference of mittens to pockets. You either keep it to yourself or keep your reach outward. Both ways provide the warmth necessary to continuing onward.
We all have different ideas of what love is, what love does and what love means to us each individually. I suppose what it comes down to is making sure that we can keep ourselves warm – that we have what we need to feel loved, and that those in our lives understand if we prefer mittens to pockets. At the same time, it’s important to remember that there are a number of ways to stay warm.
What is it that Rumi says? “Let the beauty we love be what we do; there are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.” And as my teacher Shannon puts it, you can either kneel carefully and artfully, or you can trip and fall on your face. But something leads you to love, and when it happens, it happens fully – no matter what the journey you took.
I’m a mittens kind of a girl. I like to have something to keep me warm but still give me the opportunity to reach out and hold someone else’s hand. It’s hard to do that when the other person’s hands are burrowed deep in their pockets – but I’m thankful to have someone to at least walk alongside. As long as we’re both warm, I’m happy.