Today I am grateful for same sex marriage rights. I know some of you get a tight jaw surrounding anything to do with same sex marriage and I respect that. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. However, I do not feel that way so I want to share something beautiful that I witnessed. . .
My sister and I were celebrating her birthday with lunch at Loeb’s Boathouse, a fabulous restaurant overlooking rowboats on a pond in Central Park, Manhattan. There is something decadent about linen napkins and tablecloths at lunch. I think you could serve me a bowl of mud and I’d love it if there were linen napkins and tablecloths. The place was gorgeous and the conversation animated.
In my peripheral vision I felt, more than saw a young woman walk past. I don’t want to go all nanoo-nanoo on you, but there was a definite aura surrounding this person, wearing a short, white lace dress with a scalloped hem and her dark hair pulled up into an attractive bun. She had a smile that wouldn’t quit. The woman with her was taller and thinner, with short, beautifully cut blond hair. Her dress was dark, with a slit up her back from the waist to the little button at her neck holding it up. She moved like liquid mercury. She had to be a model.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Happiness emitted from them like a radiator emits heat. Trying not to be too obvious, I watched their hands, their bodies, their faces as they looked at each other.
The brunette, who was facing me, had on a sweet little diamond ring that she kept looking at. Champagne was ordered. The smiles were unending. I had a suspicion that they had just been married, but short of jumping out of my seat to either ask or get a look at the long, slender ring-finger of the blond, I couldn’t confirm. After a couple of glasses of champagne the blond became more animated and with her fingers moving like a dancer, I saw the exact ring on her as the one the brunette was wearing. Married. Today. I’m sure.
Just before their meal was served, while we were getting ready to have dessert, their fingertips touched lightly across the table from each other. The brunette ever so gently took her brides delicate hand and brought it to her lips in a lighter than butterfly gesture. I was riveted. They were alone in a room buzzing with people. I was an unstoppable voyeur.
Under the ruse of taking pictures of the pond, the room, the setting, I managed to get a picture of them, but on second thought, I just can’t bring myself to publish it. It just wouldn’t be right. It would be too invasive and diffuse the specialness of their moment. So I am using the picture of the restaurant with no visible people. I don’t know their whole story. I don’t know them. I don’t know who might recognize them and what the ramifications might be.
One thing I do know with 100% certainty is that a love like that doesn’t come along every day. God bless them for discovering each other, falling in love, and having the courage of their convictions and sharing, even if they didn’t know it. . .with me. They were not, nor should they ever be ashamed of who they are. . .who they love.
I am grateful that I witnessed them on the day of their marriage. . .a day which they have as much right to celebrate as anyone else. As a stranger, I felt drawn-in by their joy. As a citizen of the world, I’m thrilled that they now have the legal right to marry. It’s okay if you don’t agree. I get it.