I bought a waffle covered in blackberries from the man in front of the Time Warner Center. The man stood above me in his waffle apron and sprinkled powered sugar over the berries. His waffle truck smelled like my first job. I remember making waffle cones for the local bagel/ice cream shop in my hometown. Occasionally, a cone would break after being extracted from the waffle press, and the only viable option was to eat the shattered pieces, as such a treat was not to be wasted.
Central Park makes its own music, so I don't bring anything to shove in my ears when I walk the pathways. The aluminum bat makes a sharp, dull sound when a ball makes contact with it. Behind the steady murmur of children and birds, there are drums, violins, and the "cha-ching" of an old-fashioned bicycle bell. Usually, when I walk the streets of Manhattan, each avenue, or cross-street, seems laborious; walking from 59th to 110th through the park is not as difficult as it would be on the pavement.
My Central Park excursion afforded me the opportunity to explore my thoughts on love. When God gave humans the ability to love, was it generous or cruel?
I walked by a couple getting married. They were sitting atop a rock overlooking a body of water in the park. I couldn't take my eyes off the way they were staring at one another. The bride's dress was the best I've seen-not overly glamorous yet stunning all the same. Her groom was sitting directly in front of her, and the connection between the two of them was drawing attention from onlookers. I have never seen such a bond between two people. The way the two of them stared at each other still haunts me.
Paths twist throughout the park, and I decided to walk the hills. I had to confront my thoughts on love... mentally... physically. The summertime afternoon sun was just enough to put my body into a constant sweat. I pushed the Earth back with each step as I ascended small hills and stone steps.
Love is a gift. Love of family is special. The love of friends gives me strength. The kind of love felt by the newly-weds, the kind of love I feel for another person, is that a gift as well? I hope that one day it will be; it's all a bit too cumbersome at the moment for me to take the "gift" side of the argument.
I recently learned that there is a difference between I love you and I'm in love with you. I suppose I didn't think about the difference between the two phrases because of my apprehension to use love in any capacity. There is a lot of risk involved with that word-my fear of rejection takes over; I usually avoid it altogether.
However, I recently took the risk and used love. I looked at newly-wedded couple in Central Park and understood the silence between them when they stared into one another's eyes: Love-pure love. It's not caught between, "in" or "you"-it's love.
I walked over fifty-blocks worth of Central Park. I started at 59th and walked to 110th. At the end of the walk, I thought I had worked a few things out; however, now that I'm away from the violins, drums, bicycle bells, and serenity, I'm back to reality and wish for the simple joy a waffle with blackberries brought me at the beginning of my walk.
