Back in time
And celebrating a future yet to come
I got home from New York yesterday on a brisk spring evening. It had been a whirlwind, happy weekend, with so much packed into it I had to stop to realize I’d only been away two nights. I went for a baby shower for my nephew and niece-in-law’s first child, and it was a mad, lovely crush of family from both sides, moving from one venue to another like a traveling circus. In my case, I was seeing some members of my niece’s family—all Iranian Americans—for the first time since the wedding in Istanbul four years ago. So there were sobering aspects of the reunion as well. The baby’s Iranian grandmother, and many aunts, uncles, and cousins are in Iran.
When I landed at LGA, I went straight to New Jersey to see my friends Evelyn and Rose, who are 95 year old twins. Rose was my mother’s best friend, and they are really honorary aunts to me, since they are now the only human beings on earth—aside from my brother and sister—who have known me my entire life. By request, I smuggled the ingredients for manhattan cocktails into their alcohol-free assisted living complex, including an orange, Luxardo authentic maraschino cherries (which are nothing like the things they call maraschino cherries in most grocery stores), and a zester. This was an activity they had clearly been looking forward to, and we all enjoyed it.
On the way back to the city, I asked the driver to take me through my old neighborhood. My house is no longer there, the lot having been divided to build three new enormous houses (I ponder what that property must have been worth when it was sold and the house torn down), but my best friend’s house was still there, along with some other landmarks, and we drove along the route I used to walk to first grade. We even pulled into the parking lot of the school and I tried to remember which windows were my classroom.
The shower took place the next day in a tented garden. It poured cold rain continuously, but no one seemed to mind. Afterward the whole family and a couple of close friends crammed into an elegant but tiny Brooklyn apartment to drink wine and eat pizza. Then my niece, and great-nieces, and I had a pajama party in a nearby hotel, where we were able to sit in our darkened room and watch fireworks from our beds.
The trees have begun to leaf out, and while I was gone, gardening soulmate, Joe, and his minions spread mulch on the garden beds, making everything look beautiful. The big old crabapple has begun showering pink petals over everything, which is both sad and splendid, but the other crabapples and the redbuds are in full flower, along with the tulips, daffodils, and fritillaria persica, a new and exciting addition to the bulb gardens. The hostas are beginning to open, and the alliums are shooting up tall stems with tiny buds at the top. Best of all, when I looked out the bedroom window, the limping turkey, whom I had not seen in months, was wandering along snacking as he went.
It’s good to be home.
”And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”~Julian of Norwich
These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.
And now for your gratuitous dog photo:
“Sigh…..no one to throw my ball”.
What a lovely weekend and Happy Mother's Day. The other day I remembered a GSD story to tell you. Back in the late 70s I worked a vet tech/manager of an animal ER part of a NYC vet practice on the upper East side. One night around 11 the bell rang and I opened the door and in walked an incredibly well dressed man in a cashmere polo coat carrying a large and very bloody GSD. The dog was hit by a car on the East River Dr and the man had his driver pull over and they picked up the dog and brought him to us. For the 2 weeks he was with us the man visited several times at night on his way home from work. On discharge he came, paid the bill and took him to his CT estate. The man was Leonard Bernstein.