I climbed up the door and opened the stairs.
I said my pajamas and put on my prayers.
I turned off the bed and crawled into the light,
and all because he kissed me goodnight.
Excerpt from a song written by: EDWARD POLA, GEORGE WYLE Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
What do you remember about young love?
Did the love last a few days, a few months, or a lifetime?
Do you still think about it now and then?
The skating rink warming house was bustling with activity, it smelled of dirty wet socks and steaming hot chocolate.
A distasteful smell but welcoming just the same, as it was the smell of our youth.
We struggled to find a place to sit in the crowded one-room building that was filled with young teenagers, in sweet anticipation of a wonderful evening of skating. Some younger children with their parents leaving after an afternoon of skating and the new guard, the cool kids, the teens taking over the warming house in a flurry of skates, socks, mittens, and hot chocolate.
The rink was large. Imagine the largest ice-skating rink you’ve seen and then triple the size. On the ice-skating rinks that you see on television, everyone goes in a circle to avoid collisions. This skating rink was so large that it was not necessary, and everyone was able to skate at will, in every direction.
At times, the young figure skaters who were studying for competition would practice, and you could watch them twirl and spin without fear of a collision. There was plenty of room for them to practice their routine without interruption.
A smaller second rink was situated up on a hill behind the warming house, the second rink was a hockey rink and often the larger figure skating rink was free from school aged boys during the evening, as all the boys played hockey.
The hockey rink would close earlier than the main rink and often, the boys would come and skate on the recreational rink after they played. This was one of those nights.
Of course, I knew most of them, this was our neighborhood rink, our neighborhood park and most of the boys were from my school.
I was not a terrific skater, but I was good enough. I had learned to skate backwards and did so, as I glided around the rink, having fun with my friends.
When the boys came, they would want to play crack the whip.
Crack the whip was a game where everyone got in a big line, and skated, those in the middle slowly while the ones on the end had to skate faster as the exceptionally lengthy line of skaters went around, those one on end had to skate faster and faster to keep up with the rotation.
No one ever got hurt and it was terrific to watch the efforts of those on the end, trying hard to stay up with the rotation. While I skated safely in the middle my friends told me they had overheard that the boys wanted to chase the girls after the skating rink closed.
Oh no…not that!
I was experienced at being chased by the boys. It was not a welcome experience and today, my 14th birthday, it was not a welcome birthday surprise. It had been said that boys do that if they like you. I didn’t understand the logic as to me, liking someone should mean being nice. I was told that the boys wanted to chase me especially, didn’t they know it was my birthday?
I found out later that it was not all the boys, just one that wanted to chase me. It wasn’t until much later that I found out why.
Nine o’clock came all too soon, and the warming house once again overcrowded and filled with the smell of wet socks and hot chocolate.
We took our skates off and enjoyed the marshmallows melting into the hot cup of chocolate, always so welcome and seemed to warm our chilled faces and hands while holding the cup. The warming house director always made sure there was enough for everyone.
We talked about going back to school after the long holiday. In early January, skating from now into the spring would be our main source of entertainment.
After that night, there may have been skating events, but the weather turning below zero, which it often did to make the skating season even more brief. If skating events even occurred when the weather turned colder, they did not have the same magical glisten of the snow, of the mood, of the celebration of the warm holiday skate that we experienced this memorable night.
We left the skating rink. As we walked across the rink with our skates safely tied and hanging from our necks, someone yelled, “Here come the boys they want to chase YOU,” looking at me. My closest friend yelled in a hurry “Run that way!” pointing toward the baseball dugout close-by.
It seemed odd to run to a dark and isolated area when someone was chasing me.
At the age of fourteen, I relied on the wisdom of my friend who was six weeks older and seemed sure of herself that this was a clever idea.
I was sure she must see the sense in it and ran toward the isolated baseball field, thinking the boy would lose interest in casing me, I was so far ahead, and then I could return to my friend for the enjoyable walk in the glistening snow to our homes.
Running fast at first, and then slower as I approached the dugout, I was surprised that the chase got this far and the boy did not give up with my very advantageous head start.
The gate to the baseball field was open, most likely stuck from several inches of snow on the ground, and I entered. I ran passed the bleachers and onto the baseball field. It was fun to be on the baseball field even under all the snow. Only baseball players and coaches were usually allowed to be on the field. I slowed down as I was mesmerized by the sight of the field, the snow, this special place, this special night.
The boy approached, and he too slowed down, realizing he did not have to chase anymore, as I had stopped.
The boy was one who came to our school in the third grade. I immediately liked Joey. He was a thoughtful and kind person, I had observed. I knew whatever would happen, he was probably going to return my hat eventually, if he was even going to take it.
He came up to me, smiled, said hello, and then looked at the skates hanging from my neck and said, “Put down your skates, I don’t want to hurt you.” He then asked me to sit down on the dugout bench; he asked me if he could kiss me.
Relieved that he did not want to take my hat, and I had always had a crush on him, I said yes.
And he did.
Staring into each other’s eyes, I knew, and like to think that we both knew the world had changed.
After reconnecting with my friends a few minutes later, the snow covered walk home felt like floating on a cloud of glistening snow.
Not able to describe and not fully understanding until many years later what one kiss can do, I realized that truth about this encounter. However brief, however spontaneous something changed within me in that encounter, and I, would never be the same.
School would start the following Monday after the long holiday break that stretched into this first week in January, and I was excited to see him, couldn’t wait to find out if this boy, this magical sweet young boy, would be my boyfriend.
Unknown to me, he had been moved to another school far away over the holiday and that special night was his last night at the home he knew.
He didn’t show up at school.
I would never see him again, at least not until decades later, and never, in the same way.
I would eventually come to know, but not for an extraordinarily long time, that I highly over appreciated that kiss.
Or did I?
A beautiful dream is still a dream.
This memory, for that brief moment, was real.
