Man and a woman had a little baby
Yes they did
They had three in the family.
…That’s a magic number.
I had this song in my head all day yesterday, eventually relenting and playing the Blind Melon cover off of Schoolhouse Rock Rocks until it vacated my skull. It started with those lyrics above, with thinking of those folks I know who are starting families, of the fact that this era in our lives is beginning in earnest. Valentine’s Day felt then like a celebration of all kinds of love. Not just the romantic, but the filial and the familial. The love those kids, the ones I knew when they were young, will have for their babies. The love we all have for our families, even when they’re at their most frustrating. The love I have for my friends, each one separate and unique and wonderful, and the love I suppose they have for me. The love I have for this city, for New York where I was raised and where I face the future. Each one is different, and each one makes me smile wide through this world as if nothing could ever go wrong. Valentine’s Day is codified towards only one kind of love, but there’s so much more to take in and give out and celebrate.
When it comes to love, two is a magic number, three is a magic number, and so is five and so is six and so is however far you want to count up with the people, places, and things in this big old universe.
