I do not know what I do not know.
Before it was time to go out into the snowy wonderland of my childhood suburbia [1], my mother would help me put on my coat. She would hold it carefully before me, arms extended, gesturing towards me with a glint [2] of joy in her eyes. I’d obediently turn around, back up towards her, and slip my arms into the open holes. She’d bring the coat onto my shoulder gently, letting it engulf me with its warmth, and I’d turn around to be zipped up. Six year old me was cozied up, ready to face the cold of the unknown.
Sometimes, when my mom was too busy with work, my dad would help me with the coat. He would hold it in a similar fashion, but just as I slipped my arms into the coat, he’d let it drop wholly onto my shoulders, and I’d have to catch it in time, before it fell off my small frame. The rest was up to me and I was on my own. My dad always used to say that it was natural that children preferred their mothers, an inevitable reality. I rather think he was the one who made it so.
It’s one degree outside today, or thirty-three degrees, depending on who you ask. A difference of five degrees celsius is about nine degrees Fahrenheit, which means that a single whole number in Fahrenheit is more precise, almost doubly so, as compared to a whole number in celsius. Just as our perception is shaped by language, I assume it is also shaped by our units of measurement. Then, someone who is familiar with Fahrenheit must be able to identify subtle nuances in the cold of the ambient air. Perhaps the quality of my father’s care was not for lack of trying, but simply a matter of cultural difference, a limitation of nuance [3].
Maybe nobody has ever gingerly put a coat on him.
In the immediate months and years of a future that follows, I find myself helping my partner with his coat. As I hold it before him, he slips his arms through, and I am careful not to pull too roughly. I massage the wool over his shoulders as I pull him into a full embrace, framing the coat onto his body with the weight of my own. I put his mask on for him, letting my fingers trace the outline of his ears. “Now, you’re safe.” He, too, is ready to face the day.
What I know of love, I have learned from my parents.