"Marching On"

"Can anyone remember love? It's like trying to summon up the smell of roses in a cellar. You might see a rose, but never the perfume."

-Arthur Miller

Today was my first calm weekend in a long time. I got an A on my first quiz in History, I hung out with Sergio (after not seeing him for ages) and went to a hockey game with my aunt and her family. One of my uncle's friends got us into the elite suite at the top of the arena and it was a great view but it was an awful loss for the team. At any cost, my cousin and I went ice skating afterward
It's been ages since I've gotten on the ice but it wasn't long before I noticed a little girl trying to skate alone with her father right behind her. While she kept falling, she picked herself right back up and her father didn't stray too much. I couldn't help but help her get up and give her a piece of advice. "Stand up straight, glide with the ice and even if you fall, get back up and you'll be okay."
While I made my laps around the ice, she got much better and her dad seemed to appreciate that she wasn't falling so much.
When I got back inside, I saw the little girl who waved at me and her dad, along with his wife and siblings were there. I couldn't help but look at them and see so many things that fit this setting, even as a stranger and onlooker. This fit them perfectly yet simultaneously, these were things that would never make sense in my own life.
No father figure to catch me or care if I hit the ice. No perfect unit of family, no sense of relationship or even a complete understanding of marriage, having never seen anything remotely close to perfect. I don't even remember a time where I wasn't forced in some way or another to see things from the perspective of someone older than myself instead of the child I was supposed to be.
Then I saw David put on his Facebook status that he just purchased his first pair of Converse. Quite insignificant if you think about it but a distant voice in the back of my head, one that's cynical and sarcastic and ironic couldn't help but say, "Oh, so now he dares to walk in your shoes?"
I immediately shook it off. It's only a pair of shoes. Though I've worn them for almost a decade, I'm sure millions of other people wear them. I can't take it personally.
I can't take anything personally.
In times of trial, isolation, personal frustration within myself and with the world around me, the least I can do is march forward.
"Stand up straight, glide with the ice and even if you fall, get back up and you'll be okay."