There were three of us on winter break. We decided to go skating together. My cousin Kalee was very good. My cousin Tina had never tried it. I was somewhere in between. We went to the nearest frozen lake (there were many to choose from). Kalee glided with ease and grace across the ice like Snoopy in a Charles Schulz special. I Peppermint Pattied my way along, and Tina did her best Charlie Brown, trying to get her backside off the frozen pond.

We went back to my grandma’s house. Kalee was completely dry. Tina and I changed back into warmer clothes. How was it? my grandma asked. Great, said Kalee. It was ok, I said. Tina burst into tears. “We’re all having different experiences,” my grandma said. She smiled – offered to make us rootbeer floats. We declined. She was the only one that really liked them. But we loved her. And with all of our different and peculiar ways, she loved us – all!

I read it in a book this week – “We are all having different experiences.” And though I’ve heard it before, oh how it rings true. For families. For friends. For the planet. I used to think if people weren’t having the same feelings, then someone was wrong. Was it them? Was it me? It takes a long time to learn that many things can be true. You just have to find your own truth. The version you can stand on, upright, live with.

We, as humans, are skating and falling and getting up again. All at different times. In our own different ways. And why not, there are “so many lakes to choose from.” If you can be gracious when you glide, when you fall, and all the places in between, then there will always be love. Love for us all.