When I was a roller girl I didn’t like to skate alone. And when Jackie, the oldest of the mob, came to visit with her spoil-making husband Bob (married the year I was born) I was in basement heaven. Ma and Sherry and I were living in the duplex by then, our house downsized by divorce. But the duplex basement was better than a finished basement for skating anyway, a good, solid concrete floor was what I needed–forget carpet and couches, a girl needs space.
If I begged, if I pleaded, I could drag Bob down the stairs to sit and watch and talk while I rolled circles around the poles and dipped past the floor drain. Watch me go backwards. Watch me spin around this pole. Watch. Watch. I constantly demanded and his patience complied. He always was my favorite.
We talked. I skated and quizzed him on the various routines of life. He answered without showing rancor. This discourse may have taken an hour, but I was quick to get to the meat of things.
Why did you and Jackie get married?
Because we love each other.
Did you always love each other?
And on and on.
I might have left it there, love to float freely among the cobwebs, but kids aren’t that way. Dinner is a time for discussion as well as food and I wanted to let everyone know that I too understood.
Brad told me that him and Jackie got married because they love each other. There was a general agreement, so I went on. Can anyone get married who loves each other?
Yes, they can.
What if two girls loved each other and wanted to get married, would that be weird? This caused an exchange of glances around the room.
A chuckle. Yes, it would.
I was getting into the swing of things.Would it be weird if two boys loved each other and got married?
More laughing. Yes, that would be weird too.
I sat there content, mulling over the implications in my mind. The world didn’t work just any old way.