Today is a very difficult anniversary for my family. It's a day we experienced a double-dose of loss over the years. And so, finding the words isn't always easy.
I've tried before. Shared my January Reflections. Repeatedly.
But tonight, before I tuck myself and my kiddo into bed, I'll be borrowing some that I used last year, and yes, admittedly, a few from the year before and adding a bit to them as I continue to grow in my grief.
My grandmother left us 22 years ago today. Twenty-two years. How is that even possible?
It's a lifetime. And yet, I had barely lived so much of my own life. Barely seen the world. Barely knew what the future would hold.
But I knew love.
I knew love because my family showed it to me. Showed me heart. Showed me just how important connection was and would always be. Showed me how to take care of those I loved. How to show up. How to be there, even when they barely knew we were. And how to hold on. My father was the strongest example of this you'd ever see.
I remember the second I found out she was gone. Remember it like it was moments ago. Losing someone who loved you with their entire heart - unconditionally - is a loss like no other.
Since that day my family has experienced more loss. More pain. More sadness. And my only solace is that they're together again. My father, his parents, his sister. A family unit that traveled the world to create a new life for themselves. A life unlike what they would have experienced had they stayed. A life that led to my own. Such a blessing that they made that trek. Such history there that I hold onto - even when some of the pieces are missing.
I love and miss them so. Parts of my incredible family together again. And me, us, their loved ones ... here, carrying them in our hearts always. I hope they are listening, on this beautiful and peaceful snowy day, and that they hear me as I whisper softly to them ... I love you.
If you'd like to find out more about my grandmother, I'd love if you'd head over to this post I wrote oh-so-many-years-ago: What I Remember.
And if you have a family member you've lost and would like to take a moment to honor and recognize, I hope you'll do just that in the comments. Say their name. Let me know who they are to you. Let me share in your memories and moments, as you have here in mine.
Showing posts with label flashback. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flashback. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Monday, November 27, 2017
I Should Be Asleep But My Mind Won't Let Me
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| Image from Pexels |
I'm not asleep.
I know. You already knew that.
Why introduce this post with such a simple, unnecessary statement?
I don't know. But here it is again.
I'm not asleep.
But my child is, and that's what matters most.
For the moment.
I'm sitting here like I'm 90 years old.
I literally just put some Icy Hot on my left knee.
I have no idea what the heck is wrong with it, but I probably slept funny.
And of course, I have an actual occasion this coming weekend and might even dance a step or two - and NOW I'm walking around smelling like my dad after he played ball all weekend.
Actually, he used Ben Gay more than Icy Hot - but it still makes me think of him.
Maybe that's why I'm still awake.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Reminiscing. Living. Questioning.
I spent a lot of time today reminiscing.
When you're a blogger you have an archive of many years of your life.
And if you're like me - maybe even memories written up of the years before that.
So so many memories.
So so many moments that I wouldn't change for the world.
Even though now, today, in this moment, I see that my world has changed so much.
I'm lucky to have had moments I've wanted to remember - even though right now I'm okay with forgetting.
Does that make sense?
Monday, January 2, 2017
My Favorite Posts of 2016
2016 has been a heck of a year hasn't it?
Many of us have watched our friends and loved ones struggle, or have experienced struggles of our own. Some of us have had amazing years, but watching the world around us go through changes and the like leave us considering how bad it has been for so many.
So, in this line of thinking, I'm recapping my posts for the year. I'd like to share some of my favorite pieces of writing and fill you in on what's been happening for me.
Now, this year was not as exciting, motivating, - perhaps inspiring, even? - as last year was for me, but that's okay. There have still been high points.
This one is pretty obvious. I do this kind of post each year, sharing my favorite books with my readers. It's hard to narrow it down - as I normally read about 50-60 books a year - and so I always wind up with more than I expected, but I wrap up the year with a great list of reads for you to sift through.
I wrote this letter to my friends living with chronic pain. It has to be hard, dealing with pain day in and day out. I want you to know that I see you. I see you there, making your way. And I send you strength and spoons.
I turned 44 this year. And I shared a little bit about it in my This is 44 post. Reflecting back on the year, looking forward, just - being.
Many of us have watched our friends and loved ones struggle, or have experienced struggles of our own. Some of us have had amazing years, but watching the world around us go through changes and the like leave us considering how bad it has been for so many.
So, in this line of thinking, I'm recapping my posts for the year. I'd like to share some of my favorite pieces of writing and fill you in on what's been happening for me.
Now, this year was not as exciting, motivating, - perhaps inspiring, even? - as last year was for me, but that's okay. There have still been high points.
DECEMBER
NOVEMBER
I wrote this letter to my friends living with chronic pain. It has to be hard, dealing with pain day in and day out. I want you to know that I see you. I see you there, making your way. And I send you strength and spoons.
OCTOBER
I turned 44 this year. And I shared a little bit about it in my This is 44 post. Reflecting back on the year, looking forward, just - being.
SEPTEMBER
Sometimes it's so hard to figure out what to say when the world seems to be shattering and people's lives are ending and there's not a damned thing you can really DO about all of it. And so, for me? I wrote.
AUGUST
Fall leaves me with mixed emotions. Memories of birthdays and Halloweens and first days of school gone by. Thoughts of cooler temps, enjoyable weather and being outside. And then, the loss of my father. I don't love fall the way I used to.
JULY
I have a voice. And in this world. In these days. Sometimes. All the time. Whenever I can. I try to use it. July was a rough month. As were the months before, and the months after. And so I wrote.
JUNE
Sometimes you find yourself loving life. Living and parenting at the top of your game. Other times? Not so much. This is me. Keepin' it real about motherhood.
MAY
Not a very personal post in March. I didn't write all that much. But I remind you - then, now, every day, every month - the importance of donating to your local food bank. People in need rely on these organizations for their next meal. They rely on us and our donations to fill their family's bellies. Please help if you can.
APRIL
A few reminders from me on how to navigate motherhood (or fatherhood) and find yourself a stronger parent because of it. It's not easy, raising these individuals we call our children, and finding ways to better engage - to better manage our time and our emotions - all of these are helpful.
MARCH
Sometimes you have nothing to share. Nothing to say - nothing to write. And so, you don't. Not for a while. And then, it comes, inspiration, if only enough motivation to give you a boost and encourage you to write something. Anything. This is that reminder.
FEBRUARY
I sing my own praises for a moment or two. Yep. I know. But hey, isn't that what blogging is for? What some people think it's entirely about? It's an outlet. A place for our voice to shine. For us to sing from the rooftops - whether it's good or bad news - and so, here I am. Slaying. If only for that moment.
JANUARY
If you follow me on Instagram you know I am fond of the selfie. I'm a fan. I've shared my share of pictures of myself that I've taken of myself. And yes, sometimes they're good pics. And sometimes they're a version of myself I would normally keep hidden - but hey - it's okay, it's me. It's who I am. And so, I share anyway. This here? This is why.
And a few more January posts because I couldn't pick just one:
So - how was your year? Did you recap this year? I didn't really want to, and then I decided to do it anyway. This is me. This was my 2016.
And we move forward into this new year, creating new posts, new shares, taking all the new selfies, and just simply being us. Whoever we are. I hope you'll join me in this leg of my journey. I'm still here, hanging by a thread sometimes, feeling amazing on others, and, well, just being me. You do you, friends, and be sure to share with the rest of us to remind us we're all on our own paths at the very same time.
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
A Thanksgiving Ramble
It's a Thankful Thursdays post on a Wednesday night. But still. It's gonna be live all day tomorrow because I won't be posting right away, so - let's just go with it - shall we?
Now ... before I get thankful ... let me ramble a bit.
I fell off the NaBloPoMo wagon.
To be honest, I'm not sure how on it I ever actually was. But I tried.
I was slightly motivated, and regrouping w. my blogging friends DID help me remember to write more. But I fell off and haven't really written in a few days.
I started a few posts and did nothing w. them.
Sigh.
I donno what happened, exactly. I just dropped off.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Wordless Wednesday: A Touch of Fall
I've got nothing today. I hit a wall. I didn't post yesterday, breaking my November streak for NaBloPoMo. Hmph.
I was tired. It's been that kind of week, ever since the morning fall.
So I'm sharing a touch of a different kind of fall today.
A bit of autumn for my Wordless Wednesday post. Semi-wordless, I suppose, since these are, in fact, words, right? Looks like I had a similar 11/11 post last year, only with way more substance. This year I'm quietly slipping by.
Simple. Quiet. Leaves softly falling.
You can almost hear the leaves crunching as you walk by.
Thing is this picture isn't current. It isn't even from my area - but maybe you knew that because I never get these colors for long enough to catch a picture or two of them each fall.
But it is my picture. I took it. So many years ago it's amazing I remember it and still have it.
A touch of fall. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you. And thank you for coming by to share it with me.
Did you do a Wordless Wednesday post today? I don't have a link-up but I'd love for you to leave your post URL if you did so I can come by and see what sort of beauty you've shared.
I was tired. It's been that kind of week, ever since the morning fall.
So I'm sharing a touch of a different kind of fall today.
A bit of autumn for my Wordless Wednesday post. Semi-wordless, I suppose, since these are, in fact, words, right? Looks like I had a similar 11/11 post last year, only with way more substance. This year I'm quietly slipping by.
Simple. Quiet. Leaves softly falling.
You can almost hear the leaves crunching as you walk by.
Thing is this picture isn't current. It isn't even from my area - but maybe you knew that because I never get these colors for long enough to catch a picture or two of them each fall.
But it is my picture. I took it. So many years ago it's amazing I remember it and still have it.
A touch of fall. Thank you for allowing me to share it with you. And thank you for coming by to share it with me.
Did you do a Wordless Wednesday post today? I don't have a link-up but I'd love for you to leave your post URL if you did so I can come by and see what sort of beauty you've shared.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
When nothing means everything.
We just got home from a ton of errands.
A quick lunch.
A pop-in at a friend's.
Selling some of my books. Buying more used ones (not for me - well - not more than one for me).
Grocery shopping.
For some reason I bought a can of Planters peanuts today.
A quick lunch.
A pop-in at a friend's.
Selling some of my books. Buying more used ones (not for me - well - not more than one for me).
Grocery shopping.
For some reason I bought a can of Planters peanuts today.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Wrapping up 2014.
December 31, 2014. Today. We wrap up the year.
Last year I didn't want to write a wrap-up post. I wasn't feeling it.
Today I feel like crap and so I'm also not exactly feeling it.
I had a pretty quiet year, blogging-wise.
I never expected to look back and think, wow, I didn't write that often - and yet - I found myself skimming post titles and finding my favorites.
Or my least favorites, because of topic and emotion, not because of content or writing style.
So - here's 2014 for you - wrapped up in a bow of sorts.
Last year I didn't want to write a wrap-up post. I wasn't feeling it.
Today I feel like crap and so I'm also not exactly feeling it.
I had a pretty quiet year, blogging-wise.
I never expected to look back and think, wow, I didn't write that often - and yet - I found myself skimming post titles and finding my favorites.
Or my least favorites, because of topic and emotion, not because of content or writing style.
So - here's 2014 for you - wrapped up in a bow of sorts.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Stuck.
I'm stuck.
Last week I was in sponsored post mode. This week and then some? Nada. Nothing.
I've got the emotions. I've got the anxieties. I've got the thoughts but I just don't have the words.
I've watched a few recent episodes of Glee lately and cried every.single.time. I'm about to catch up on the New York episode and then I have last night's episode and I'll be caught up.
Why is it that emotional for me to watch these damned episodes?
I can blame it on PMS. It would be easy to.
But I think it's a combination of real life emotions and "TV" related emotions all smushed up together. Do you know what that's like?
Last week I was in sponsored post mode. This week and then some? Nada. Nothing.
I've got the emotions. I've got the anxieties. I've got the thoughts but I just don't have the words.
I've watched a few recent episodes of Glee lately and cried every.single.time. I'm about to catch up on the New York episode and then I have last night's episode and I'll be caught up.
Why is it that emotional for me to watch these damned episodes?
I can blame it on PMS. It would be easy to.
But I think it's a combination of real life emotions and "TV" related emotions all smushed up together. Do you know what that's like?
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Moments are memories.
The moments.
They come and go.
I catch myself smiling and don't recognize that girl.
I catch myself crying and she looks more familiar.
I look in the mirror - and I look away.
Ah, who am I kidding? I look at my cell phone. I take the pictures. I watch as the smile on my face has shifted. It just isn't there the way it used to be.
I still smile.
I still laugh.
I have a 7-year-old daughter. Laughter is required. It's a means of survival. And it's the way life goes. When she smiles, G-d, the whole room lights up.
Is that how you felt about me?
It's how I felt about you.
I miss your smile so freaking much.
I see it in my dreams sometimes. Or I want to. I see you. But you're not smiling. You're just sort of there. I can't even explain what that's like. To wake up and eventually remember that I saw you. But now you're gone.
It hurts.
I'm raw.
So many people losing loved ones around me. I don't really know what to say. Except I can now say I know. I know. I know but I don't want to.
I don't want to know what it's like to say goodbye to my father.
I don't want to want your arms around me enveloping me in a huge hug and have to know it's not going to happen.
I don't want the only smile I'll ever see to be in photographs.
I want you. YOUR smile. In my face.
Your voice in my ear.
Your heart against mine.
I want your hand in mine. Playing with my fingers. Thumb-wrestling.
Holding onto my knee.
You're supposed to be waking up my daughter with her hair. Tickling her nose like you did mine. I do it. I do the things you did. I feel you - you're there - reminding me. Showing me.
I hear you in my mind.
But it's not nearly enough.
Where has your voice gone? How can I get it back?
I miss you, Daddy.
I love you. Forever and always.
I hope that you're somewhere, out there on the water, in the great vastness of blue that makes up this world we exist in. And I hope that you're riding the waves and feeling the sun.
And I hope that you're smiling.
* I'm linking up today with Shell over at Pour Your Heart Out. I'm a day behind, but she's awesome and doesn't care about stuff like that.
They come and go.
I catch myself smiling and don't recognize that girl.
I catch myself crying and she looks more familiar.
I look in the mirror - and I look away.
Ah, who am I kidding? I look at my cell phone. I take the pictures. I watch as the smile on my face has shifted. It just isn't there the way it used to be.
I still smile.
I still laugh.
I have a 7-year-old daughter. Laughter is required. It's a means of survival. And it's the way life goes. When she smiles, G-d, the whole room lights up.
Is that how you felt about me?
It's how I felt about you.
I miss your smile so freaking much.
I see it in my dreams sometimes. Or I want to. I see you. But you're not smiling. You're just sort of there. I can't even explain what that's like. To wake up and eventually remember that I saw you. But now you're gone.
It hurts.
I'm raw.
So many people losing loved ones around me. I don't really know what to say. Except I can now say I know. I know. I know but I don't want to.
I don't want to know what it's like to say goodbye to my father.
I don't want to want your arms around me enveloping me in a huge hug and have to know it's not going to happen.
I don't want the only smile I'll ever see to be in photographs.
I want you. YOUR smile. In my face.
Your voice in my ear.
Your heart against mine.
I want your hand in mine. Playing with my fingers. Thumb-wrestling.
Holding onto my knee.
You're supposed to be waking up my daughter with her hair. Tickling her nose like you did mine. I do it. I do the things you did. I feel you - you're there - reminding me. Showing me.
I hear you in my mind.
But it's not nearly enough.
Where has your voice gone? How can I get it back?
I miss you, Daddy.
I love you. Forever and always.
I hope that you're somewhere, out there on the water, in the great vastness of blue that makes up this world we exist in. And I hope that you're riding the waves and feeling the sun.
And I hope that you're smiling.
* I'm linking up today with Shell over at Pour Your Heart Out. I'm a day behind, but she's awesome and doesn't care about stuff like that.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Amazing Reads: The 1/24 Edition
I'm really enjoying this "series" I've started.
I'm also enjoying making the time to read blogs. It's important. It's a huge part of who I am, ya know?
And so, here we have a few posts that struck me as important to share with you all this week.
My friend Amy is amazingly talented and absolutely beautiful. She always looks so completely put together to me. I bet she didn't know that I think that, and I kick myself for waiting til now to tell her. But you know what? She's human, too. She wrote a bit of a letter to the person in line before her at Starbucks who taught her to pay it forward and brightened her day some. And she shared real and raw words with us. Check it out over at Somebody's Parents. You'll be thankful for the reminder that you're not alone. I know I was.
And speaking of raw and real, Erin has opened up and shared an experience that led to her flashing back, recognizing memories hurt and pain from her youth. Having her eyes opened to the reminder that she isn't responsible for all the bad things, all the "stuff," as she puts it is a reminder to us all that we didn't cause all the pains of our youth. So many things happened TO us. But didn't happen because of things we did. We were kids. How could we place that blame on an innocent child? We'd never do it now. We'd never let it happen to our children. It's time we shift that blame and place it where it belongs. Join Erin as she does that in The Blame Game.
More honesty this week comes from Fadra over at All Things Fadra. As soon as I saw the title of her post I had to go read it. As I Get Older is an open, honest account of things that she's started noticing about herself in her, ehem, not quite younger years. I'm right there with her and I totally feel it. I mean, I know I am not exactly twelve anymore, though I often say I "look" it. I mean, I do - don't I? No? Yeah. Maybe not. But I'm still all about the selfie. * Have you checked out my 2013 selfie summary yet? No? You totally should. Go on, I'll wait. Anyway, selfies aside, Fadra is another tell it like it is mama. And I like that. A lot.
I've decided that during my weekly Amazing Reads segments I'll be sharing a little bit of old school me from previous posts. I've got one this week that sort of sums me up in 400 words. Check it out. Challenge yourself to write something similar. It's kind of cool. I promise.
See you next week! And if you have an Amazing Read to share, let me know.
Maybe I'll feature you next!
I'm also enjoying making the time to read blogs. It's important. It's a huge part of who I am, ya know?
And so, here we have a few posts that struck me as important to share with you all this week.
My friend Amy is amazingly talented and absolutely beautiful. She always looks so completely put together to me. I bet she didn't know that I think that, and I kick myself for waiting til now to tell her. But you know what? She's human, too. She wrote a bit of a letter to the person in line before her at Starbucks who taught her to pay it forward and brightened her day some. And she shared real and raw words with us. Check it out over at Somebody's Parents. You'll be thankful for the reminder that you're not alone. I know I was.
And speaking of raw and real, Erin has opened up and shared an experience that led to her flashing back, recognizing memories hurt and pain from her youth. Having her eyes opened to the reminder that she isn't responsible for all the bad things, all the "stuff," as she puts it is a reminder to us all that we didn't cause all the pains of our youth. So many things happened TO us. But didn't happen because of things we did. We were kids. How could we place that blame on an innocent child? We'd never do it now. We'd never let it happen to our children. It's time we shift that blame and place it where it belongs. Join Erin as she does that in The Blame Game.
More honesty this week comes from Fadra over at All Things Fadra. As soon as I saw the title of her post I had to go read it. As I Get Older is an open, honest account of things that she's started noticing about herself in her, ehem, not quite younger years. I'm right there with her and I totally feel it. I mean, I know I am not exactly twelve anymore, though I often say I "look" it. I mean, I do - don't I? No? Yeah. Maybe not. But I'm still all about the selfie. * Have you checked out my 2013 selfie summary yet? No? You totally should. Go on, I'll wait. Anyway, selfies aside, Fadra is another tell it like it is mama. And I like that. A lot.
I've decided that during my weekly Amazing Reads segments I'll be sharing a little bit of old school me from previous posts. I've got one this week that sort of sums me up in 400 words. Check it out. Challenge yourself to write something similar. It's kind of cool. I promise.
See you next week! And if you have an Amazing Read to share, let me know.
Maybe I'll feature you next!
Friday, January 10, 2014
Amazing Reads: A Different Spin
This week's amazing reads post is going to give you some flashing back to 2013.
Only it won't consist of pictures or videos, but book titles.
A few years ago I found this meme by The Happily Ever After over at my friend Lisa's place and I've been participating ever since. Hang tight til the end of the post and I'll give you the links to previous years in case you're curious.
You know I finally got back to talking books a week or so ago when I tossed out a few titles on my to-read list for 2014, so I am really hoping that I have my reading (and writing about reading) mojo back. I also have a few fantastic book reviews coming up - not trying to flatter myself - the books have been fantastic, I hope you'll enjoy the reviews!
Anyway, without further ado, here's my reflections on the past year in books!
Describe yourself:
How do you feel:
bloom: finding beauty in the unexpected
* Kelle Hampton
Describe where you currently live:
Lost in Suburbia
* Tracy Beckerman
If you could go anywhere where would you go:
The Long Way Home
* Mariah Stewart
Your favorite form of transportation:
Sing You Home
* Jodi Picoult
Your best friend is:
The Mermaid of Brooklyn
* Amy Shearn
You and your friends are:
Friendkeeping
* Julie Klam
What's the weather like:
Yesterday's Sun
* Amanda Brooke
What is life to you:
Beautiful Ruins
* Jess Walter
Favorite time of day:
I Just Want to Pee Alone
* Compilation of stories by some kick ass mom bloggers
Your fear:
Mind Without A Home
* Kristina Morgan
What is the best advice you have to give:
Don't Lick The Minivan
* Leanne Shirtliffe
Thought for the day:
Carry On, Warrior
* Glennon Melton
How I Would Like To Die:
The First Phone Call From Heaven
* Mitch Albom
My soul's present condition:
If You Were Here
* Alafair Burke
And The Mountains Echoed
* Khaled Hosseini
My family is:
Happier At Home
* Gretchen Rubin
I linked up the titles I had reviews for an surprised myself with how many reviews I actually wrote over this past year. Pretty cool.
Here are my recap posts from previous years:
Reading with Redneck: 2012.
Reading with Redneck: 2011.
Reading with Redneck: 2010.
And I haven't fully updated 2013's list, but I do try to keep a full list of my reads over at Reading With Redneck. Review links are posted there, as well.
So, tell me, which title on this post strikes you as most interesting? Enough so that you might pick up the book for yourself? Fill me in! And happy reading!
Only it won't consist of pictures or videos, but book titles.
A few years ago I found this meme by The Happily Ever After over at my friend Lisa's place and I've been participating ever since. Hang tight til the end of the post and I'll give you the links to previous years in case you're curious.
You know I finally got back to talking books a week or so ago when I tossed out a few titles on my to-read list for 2014, so I am really hoping that I have my reading (and writing about reading) mojo back. I also have a few fantastic book reviews coming up - not trying to flatter myself - the books have been fantastic, I hope you'll enjoy the reviews!
Anyway, without further ado, here's my reflections on the past year in books!
Describe yourself:
How do you feel:
bloom: finding beauty in the unexpected
* Kelle Hampton
Describe where you currently live:
Lost in Suburbia
* Tracy Beckerman
If you could go anywhere where would you go:
The Long Way Home
* Mariah Stewart
Your favorite form of transportation:
Sing You Home
* Jodi Picoult
Your best friend is:
The Mermaid of Brooklyn
* Amy Shearn
You and your friends are:
Friendkeeping
* Julie Klam
What's the weather like:
Yesterday's Sun
* Amanda Brooke
What is life to you:
Beautiful Ruins
* Jess Walter
Favorite time of day:
I Just Want to Pee Alone
* Compilation of stories by some kick ass mom bloggers
Your fear:
Mind Without A Home
* Kristina Morgan
What is the best advice you have to give:
Don't Lick The Minivan
* Leanne Shirtliffe
Thought for the day:
Carry On, Warrior
* Glennon Melton
How I Would Like To Die:
The First Phone Call From Heaven
* Mitch Albom
My soul's present condition:
If You Were Here
* Alafair Burke
And The Mountains Echoed
* Khaled Hosseini
My family is:
Happier At Home
* Gretchen Rubin
I linked up the titles I had reviews for an surprised myself with how many reviews I actually wrote over this past year. Pretty cool.
Here are my recap posts from previous years:
Reading with Redneck: 2012.
Reading with Redneck: 2011.
Reading with Redneck: 2010.
And I haven't fully updated 2013's list, but I do try to keep a full list of my reads over at Reading With Redneck. Review links are posted there, as well.
So, tell me, which title on this post strikes you as most interesting? Enough so that you might pick up the book for yourself? Fill me in! And happy reading!
Monday, November 11, 2013
30 Days.
Thirty days.
Numbers suck lately, don't they?
How many weeks has it been since I lost the first man I ever loved?
How many Fridays have I counted since those dreaded phone calls that led to the worst news I have ever received in my life?
How many moments have I experienced where the tears started falling out of what seemed like nowhere?
How many times has my daughter looked up at the sky, or the ceiling, and said 'Good morning, Zeide'?
And then turned to me and encouraged me to do the same?
So many.
How many moments have we lived without him already?
Too many.
So how is it possible we keep going? How do we look ahead, all the while looking back and wishing, hoping, dreaming that all of this is some alternate reality in which we will all wake up soon and see him. There. Sitting there. On the floor in front of the new couch.
On the porch when we pull into the driveway.
At the kitchen table, glasses on, reading. Scratching out the Chinese food order onto a slip of paper.
What happened to all of those slips of paper?
My dad didn't sign the cards. He didn't do the writing. I don't have enough of his handwriting.
But I have a recipe. Chicken soup. I need to find it. I know where it should be, but I need to find it.
And soon.
Because that recipe is a piece of my father. A moment in time where we sat down together, discussed ingredients, laughed, talked, shared. Not that I didn't call him every.single.time I made chicken soup and/or matzo balls anyway.
What should I do if they don't float, Daddy?
Yoina, what did you do with my baking powder? I can't find it.
Daddy, I made a matzo brie!
I need that G-d-forsaken slip of paper. I need to close my eyes and find it.
I know I will. I know it's somewhere. Everything is somewhere, right? I mean, it HAS to be.
In the meantime I know I can make it on my own. I know I can. And I will. I mean, now I have to.
And it sucks.
It's not fair.
And I'll keep on counting.
The firsts. The nexts. The days. The weeks. The months. The years? Will I? I mean, I will, but how?
Sigh. This sucks.
Royally.
I love you, Pops.
I miss you. Always.
Numbers suck lately, don't they?
How many weeks has it been since I lost the first man I ever loved?
How many Fridays have I counted since those dreaded phone calls that led to the worst news I have ever received in my life?
How many moments have I experienced where the tears started falling out of what seemed like nowhere?
How many times has my daughter looked up at the sky, or the ceiling, and said 'Good morning, Zeide'?
And then turned to me and encouraged me to do the same?
So many.
How many moments have we lived without him already?
Too many.
So how is it possible we keep going? How do we look ahead, all the while looking back and wishing, hoping, dreaming that all of this is some alternate reality in which we will all wake up soon and see him. There. Sitting there. On the floor in front of the new couch.
On the porch when we pull into the driveway.
At the kitchen table, glasses on, reading. Scratching out the Chinese food order onto a slip of paper.
What happened to all of those slips of paper?
My dad didn't sign the cards. He didn't do the writing. I don't have enough of his handwriting.
But I have a recipe. Chicken soup. I need to find it. I know where it should be, but I need to find it.
And soon.
Because that recipe is a piece of my father. A moment in time where we sat down together, discussed ingredients, laughed, talked, shared. Not that I didn't call him every.single.time I made chicken soup and/or matzo balls anyway.
What should I do if they don't float, Daddy?
Yoina, what did you do with my baking powder? I can't find it.
Daddy, I made a matzo brie!
I need that G-d-forsaken slip of paper. I need to close my eyes and find it.
I know I will. I know it's somewhere. Everything is somewhere, right? I mean, it HAS to be.
In the meantime I know I can make it on my own. I know I can. And I will. I mean, now I have to.
And it sucks.
It's not fair.
And I'll keep on counting.
The firsts. The nexts. The days. The weeks. The months. The years? Will I? I mean, I will, but how?
Sigh. This sucks.
Royally.
I love you, Pops.
I miss you. Always.
Monday, October 7, 2013
When did you graduate high school?
And what were you listening to back then?
I have to thank The Dose Girls this morning. They alerted me to the Monday Listicles topic that has me flashing back to my senior year of high school, the senior prom, senior trip ... good LORDY so many flashbacks there.
And the top ten songs from that timeframe. Top ten songs I remember from senior year. EEK.
I graduated high school in 1990, my friends. That was QUITE some time ago.
And yet ... some memories last forever, don't they?
I can picture myself, me, my friends, up at the crack of dawn, boarding buses for our senior trip to Virginia Beach. Saying goodbye to our parents as we went off on our "own" for one of the first times ever. Sort of. One song that I won't forget from that weekend? Maybe it was a popular roller coaster song (who am I kidding, it totally WAS):
Oh my G-d! I just searched for some songs from 1990 and found a list of the Top 100. And? HOLD ON IS NUMBER ONE!!! Bwahahaha. That's crazy. Seriously. And now it's in my head.
Forever.
You're welcome.
OMG. I just found another song I SO remember. What did we even know about this crap at that age? Really. And yet ... (I remember every word!) And look at the hair! Ahhh!! The hair!!!
I think we had a routine for this one in my slimnastics class.
Yes. I did just say slimnastics.
Another one I really know way too many words of. Even now. Oh-so-many years later.
You have to know this one. It's the kind of song everyone dances to and sings when it comes on. No matter when or where you are.
And a classic:
And yet another:
And no 90s list would be complete without these guys ... who I can't watch without giggling. Look at the hair. The outfits. Oy.
This video kind of freaks me out a little bit until the singing starts. And I have to admit, I knew their music better when I was a college freshman. Obviously my tastes had - uhm - grown.
I need one more. I can't decide. Can you pick for me? Think back to 1990. What would your favorite song have been? And all you youngins - go away.
I'm kidding [no, really, go away]. Really. Just kidding.
Hope you enjoyed this trip down my memory lane.
Catch ya on the flipside!
I have to thank The Dose Girls this morning. They alerted me to the Monday Listicles topic that has me flashing back to my senior year of high school, the senior prom, senior trip ... good LORDY so many flashbacks there.
And the top ten songs from that timeframe. Top ten songs I remember from senior year. EEK.
I graduated high school in 1990, my friends. That was QUITE some time ago.
And yet ... some memories last forever, don't they?
I can picture myself, me, my friends, up at the crack of dawn, boarding buses for our senior trip to Virginia Beach. Saying goodbye to our parents as we went off on our "own" for one of the first times ever. Sort of. One song that I won't forget from that weekend? Maybe it was a popular roller coaster song (who am I kidding, it totally WAS):
Oh my G-d! I just searched for some songs from 1990 and found a list of the Top 100. And? HOLD ON IS NUMBER ONE!!! Bwahahaha. That's crazy. Seriously. And now it's in my head.
Forever.
You're welcome.
OMG. I just found another song I SO remember. What did we even know about this crap at that age? Really. And yet ... (I remember every word!) And look at the hair! Ahhh!! The hair!!!
I think we had a routine for this one in my slimnastics class.
Yes. I did just say slimnastics.
Another one I really know way too many words of. Even now. Oh-so-many years later.
You have to know this one. It's the kind of song everyone dances to and sings when it comes on. No matter when or where you are.
And a classic:
And yet another:
And no 90s list would be complete without these guys ... who I can't watch without giggling. Look at the hair. The outfits. Oy.
This video kind of freaks me out a little bit until the singing starts. And I have to admit, I knew their music better when I was a college freshman. Obviously my tastes had - uhm - grown.
I need one more. I can't decide. Can you pick for me? Think back to 1990. What would your favorite song have been? And all you youngins - go away.
I'm kidding [no, really, go away]. Really. Just kidding.
Hope you enjoyed this trip down my memory lane.
Catch ya on the flipside!
Sunday, July 14, 2013
I'm kickin' it old skool!
I'm participating in Old School Blogging this month and I'm loving that Allison and Elaine are talking "Five Things," mostly because I LOVE LISTS!!
Five things I have a passion for:
* My family
* My friends
* Writing
* Reading
* Love
Five things I have a passion for:
* My family
* My friends
* Writing
* Reading
* Love
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
I need my bed.
Today wasn't a very long day, but it ultimately turned out to be a draining one.
Anyone who is anyone knows what happened in Boston and damned if I know where to begin with what I might feel the need to say here.
I had a whole post written about things.
Things that seem pretty irrelevant tonight as I sit here watching my Twitter stream go by - retweets of amazing efforts of Boston's PD/FD and more.
Explosions, people. Effing explosions.
I mean. What? The? HELL?
I could use worse wording there, but I'm trying to stay nice enough.
But seriously, people. What the EFF? YOU? SEE? KAY?
You feel me, right?
My brother-in-law and nieces and nephew just HAPPENED to be in Boston today at Fenway. Fabulous, right? First thing that came to my mind? How the hell close is Fenway to the finish line? I Facebooked him - yes that is so totally a verb - and heard back within moments. All well. Thank goodness.
Then I thought of my friend Carla (not her real name, but that's what I call her, and not just for this post) who lives in the MA and Boston area. She's a runner, too. I know she has run big races before. Even done so with her son. Her young son. Really young. Hell. I popped onto her timeline and noticed people checking in - waiting for word - it appeared her husband was to be running today. Fantastic. I'd have to wait a while, but fortunately their whole family is safe. Thank goodness again.
Twitter is a mine field. Facebook isn't that much better. But for some reason Twitter makes me want to click more. Draws me in in those 140 characters and half-disappearing links.
What? What's that about? I ask, I think, I click.
Hell no. I did NOT want to see that. Dayum.
I kept the television OFF. My 6-year old did not need to see those images.
My husband came home and turned it on. ON.
No. Nope. Not me. I watched and listened to the president speak.
Then I walked away. Drowned out the sound as best I could.
See - those images? Surprisingly or not? Triggered too many memories. 9/11 flashed into my mind in a heartbeat. SO completely different. I know it. I feel it. But still.
Two bombs. Two explosions. Just like two planes. No thank you.
Smoky streets. Police officers. Firemen. Leading people. Carrying people. Protecting people. Yep. I know. I've seen it before.
Instant flinch when those cameras showed people feeling their way through the smoke. Nope. No thank you. I'll think and I'll hope and I might cry and maybe I'll pray. But I won't watch. I can't. That instant. Those images? I already can't shake them and I saw about 30-50 seconds of them. It was already too much.
All of this sucks. I wish it hadn't happened. I hope it never happens again. I hope the bastards who did this pay for what they have done. Because I feel it. They're pushing. Trying. Shoving themselves across the line. Assuming this IS what everyone seems to be thinking it is. And I'll be damned if I'm accepting that bs.
I'm a mom now. 2001 is a long ways back in my world. I have new, beautiful and different priorities these days. And I really don't want to have to keep explaining to her about explosions caused by bad guys. Because the only bad guys she should be thinking about should be on the shows and movies she watches. And even then we might consider filtering them out. Not often, she's not a super-sensitive kid that way. But still ... we know what she's watching and what's coming her way.
Moms and dads know, need to know, and act accordingly.
These exploding bastards - they need to step off. America is not playing this game.
At all.
Because we may move forward, be strong, feel roughed up and tossed around a bit. But we never. Ever.
EVER.
Forget.
And we never will.
* Obviously we do not know the cause, the people, the reasoning behind today's events at this time. And I'm not pointing fingers. Not presuming. Not really assuming, either. But those bombs? They didn't get there all by themselves. And these are bad guys. Girls. People. Whatever. They're bad - the ones who put them there. And they're attacking and hurting people. And that sucks. And they should not get away with it. Justice for all and all that comes with it. Maybe I'm wrong turning this into a bit of a patriotic rant, but it is (was) Patriot's Day today, right? That should mean something. And so I did. I have. I am tossing it all out there. Just because this is my space and I can.
Stay safe, my sweet friends. Wishing you all the sweetest of dreams. Cuddle with your wee ones as often as you can. Remind yourself of the good. The sweet. The love.
Anyone who is anyone knows what happened in Boston and damned if I know where to begin with what I might feel the need to say here.
I had a whole post written about things.
Things that seem pretty irrelevant tonight as I sit here watching my Twitter stream go by - retweets of amazing efforts of Boston's PD/FD and more.
Explosions, people. Effing explosions.
I mean. What? The? HELL?
I could use worse wording there, but I'm trying to stay nice enough.
But seriously, people. What the EFF? YOU? SEE? KAY?
You feel me, right?
My brother-in-law and nieces and nephew just HAPPENED to be in Boston today at Fenway. Fabulous, right? First thing that came to my mind? How the hell close is Fenway to the finish line? I Facebooked him - yes that is so totally a verb - and heard back within moments. All well. Thank goodness.
Then I thought of my friend Carla (not her real name, but that's what I call her, and not just for this post) who lives in the MA and Boston area. She's a runner, too. I know she has run big races before. Even done so with her son. Her young son. Really young. Hell. I popped onto her timeline and noticed people checking in - waiting for word - it appeared her husband was to be running today. Fantastic. I'd have to wait a while, but fortunately their whole family is safe. Thank goodness again.
Twitter is a mine field. Facebook isn't that much better. But for some reason Twitter makes me want to click more. Draws me in in those 140 characters and half-disappearing links.
What? What's that about? I ask, I think, I click.
Hell no. I did NOT want to see that. Dayum.
I kept the television OFF. My 6-year old did not need to see those images.
My husband came home and turned it on. ON.
No. Nope. Not me. I watched and listened to the president speak.
Then I walked away. Drowned out the sound as best I could.
See - those images? Surprisingly or not? Triggered too many memories. 9/11 flashed into my mind in a heartbeat. SO completely different. I know it. I feel it. But still.
Two bombs. Two explosions. Just like two planes. No thank you.
Smoky streets. Police officers. Firemen. Leading people. Carrying people. Protecting people. Yep. I know. I've seen it before.
Instant flinch when those cameras showed people feeling their way through the smoke. Nope. No thank you. I'll think and I'll hope and I might cry and maybe I'll pray. But I won't watch. I can't. That instant. Those images? I already can't shake them and I saw about 30-50 seconds of them. It was already too much.
All of this sucks. I wish it hadn't happened. I hope it never happens again. I hope the bastards who did this pay for what they have done. Because I feel it. They're pushing. Trying. Shoving themselves across the line. Assuming this IS what everyone seems to be thinking it is. And I'll be damned if I'm accepting that bs.
I'm a mom now. 2001 is a long ways back in my world. I have new, beautiful and different priorities these days. And I really don't want to have to keep explaining to her about explosions caused by bad guys. Because the only bad guys she should be thinking about should be on the shows and movies she watches. And even then we might consider filtering them out. Not often, she's not a super-sensitive kid that way. But still ... we know what she's watching and what's coming her way.
Moms and dads know, need to know, and act accordingly.
These exploding bastards - they need to step off. America is not playing this game.
At all.
Because we may move forward, be strong, feel roughed up and tossed around a bit. But we never. Ever.
EVER.
Forget.
And we never will.
* Obviously we do not know the cause, the people, the reasoning behind today's events at this time. And I'm not pointing fingers. Not presuming. Not really assuming, either. But those bombs? They didn't get there all by themselves. And these are bad guys. Girls. People. Whatever. They're bad - the ones who put them there. And they're attacking and hurting people. And that sucks. And they should not get away with it. Justice for all and all that comes with it. Maybe I'm wrong turning this into a bit of a patriotic rant, but it is (was) Patriot's Day today, right? That should mean something. And so I did. I have. I am tossing it all out there. Just because this is my space and I can.
Stay safe, my sweet friends. Wishing you all the sweetest of dreams. Cuddle with your wee ones as often as you can. Remind yourself of the good. The sweet. The love.
Friday, December 7, 2012
My Holiday Best!
I've been off the radar as far as the blogging world is concerned. I'm still around on Twitter and Facebook and you can find me there, certainly, but I just kind of hit a slump and haven't come up with words to share here.
So I'm scrapping it (I even started writing this afternoon about the importance of GIVING this holiday season and I just couldn't get myself motivated to dig up links and research things that I basically know off the top of my head and heart and so that post is shelved for a few more days, I suppose) all for the time being ...
And I'm going to be lazy and dig up my holiday-ish themed posts from years past. Including this picture from 2009!
And if you're so inclined, feel free to read 'em. And if not, I'm cool with that, too.
You gotta be you, after all.
I'll work my way backwards so I'll start off with last year's letter to Mr. C. And I totally don't mean the dad from Happy Days. Honk if you got that reference!
My letter to Mr. C aka Santa
I also talk about one of the most important aspects of the holidays. The COOKIES.
Cookie Swaps and all that jazz ...
I just write about my holiday home ...
Just write.
My Christmas Eve Day poem from 2010!
Merry Christmas Eve Day!
How we blend the holidays in our house.
Blended holiday celebration.
A Chanukah poem (also from 2010 - and guess what? They match!):
Twas the night before Chanukah?
Why I'm slightly screwed ...
Where does Santa live?
And so there you have it. Most of it, anyway. My holiday best here at Good Girl. Is that wrong that I nickname myself that way? Ha. I don't know, just kidding. All my handles are goodgirlgonered so I think people will end up even more confused if I'm not careful. And if you skipped all my links, it's all good. I'm sure I will write about the holidays as the week begins and we move through Chanukah and towards Christmas.
Like right now, I have a question for you. I noticed it in one of my really old but wayyy lame short posts. But now I can have proof if you actually read my post to the end or not! Ha! Gotcha!
What's your favorite holiday movie of all time?
And ... maybe MORE importantly ... what's your LEAST favorite holiday movie of all time?
Feel free to share in the comments! And have a great weekend!
So I'm scrapping it (I even started writing this afternoon about the importance of GIVING this holiday season and I just couldn't get myself motivated to dig up links and research things that I basically know off the top of my head and heart and so that post is shelved for a few more days, I suppose) all for the time being ...
And I'm going to be lazy and dig up my holiday-ish themed posts from years past. Including this picture from 2009!
And if you're so inclined, feel free to read 'em. And if not, I'm cool with that, too.
You gotta be you, after all.
I'll work my way backwards so I'll start off with last year's letter to Mr. C. And I totally don't mean the dad from Happy Days. Honk if you got that reference!
My letter to Mr. C aka Santa
I also talk about one of the most important aspects of the holidays. The COOKIES.
Cookie Swaps and all that jazz ...
I just write about my holiday home ...
Just write.
My Christmas Eve Day poem from 2010!
Merry Christmas Eve Day!
How we blend the holidays in our house.
Blended holiday celebration.
A Chanukah poem (also from 2010 - and guess what? They match!):
Twas the night before Chanukah?
Why I'm slightly screwed ...
Where does Santa live?
And so there you have it. Most of it, anyway. My holiday best here at Good Girl. Is that wrong that I nickname myself that way? Ha. I don't know, just kidding. All my handles are goodgirlgonered so I think people will end up even more confused if I'm not careful. And if you skipped all my links, it's all good. I'm sure I will write about the holidays as the week begins and we move through Chanukah and towards Christmas.
Like right now, I have a question for you. I noticed it in one of my really old but wayyy lame short posts. But now I can have proof if you actually read my post to the end or not! Ha! Gotcha!
What's your favorite holiday movie of all time?
And ... maybe MORE importantly ... what's your LEAST favorite holiday movie of all time?
Feel free to share in the comments! And have a great weekend!
Friday, November 16, 2012
My walk home.
My feet slipped and slid.
Damn it. I'm going to kill myself before I make it there.
I should just take them off.
But I have so many blocks to go.
The streets of Queens are not the best for bare feet.
I battle on. It feels so gross.
I call him, hoping he will offer to come and pick me up.
It's not that far, I know. But I'm still hoping.
He just got in himself. He's soaked. To the bone.
But he has the car. He could come and get me.
I'm trying to decide the best route to take.
I keep walking.
Under the train? But what if ...
Thunder booms in the distance.
What choice do I have?
I keep going.
Sticking close to buildings.
Watching my toes slide forward, practically hitting the pavement.
Scraping. Ow.
I hear myself muttering.
It's kind of cathartic, though.
Assuming I don't kill myself.
It really is beautiful.
Cleansing, almost.
My ankle twists to the side.
Seriously!?! I'm going to wind up in a drain.
My hood pulled up, shielding my face from the elements.
Splatters of cold against my cheeks.
It's supposed to be summer! I yell to no one, really.
I stop, wipe my cheeks. My eyes.
Leaning over, I work at clearing them.
Wiping with my sleeve.
I should really take these damned things off.
They're so slippery.
Grasping onto my ankles for dear life.
Skechers.
For real. Summery, once white Skechers.
Ugh. Of all the days.
My toes twist as I use them to hold on.
Digging. Clenching.
I keep walking.
I'm a mess.
I feel it.
I'm this close, though. I have to keep going.
I can see my building.
Work to get the key. Fumble.
But I get it.
I'm inside.
And now, it's time.
To free myself.
I take off my shoes.
Finally sheltered.
And free from the rain.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Why I write.
Last night I started writing a post about my NYC memories.
Things that hold onto my heart and remind me of the beauty and the joy that is New York.
I got caught up in talking about things like the food. The food in NYC is incredible. But you know that. You know *I* know that. I don't need to focus on that. I need to stick to the moments. The good and the bad. If food should make an appearance, so be it.
So I look to my memories of nights out on the Upper East Side with friends. $40 cab rides home to Brooklyn. Quick stops at the diner for a grilled cheese. Kamikaze shots and Alabama Slammers.
Walking hand in hand with my now husband to the train through a snowy Manhattan night. Losing a glove somewhere along the way as we tightened our grip on one another - finding each other somehow.
The first time he drove his new Saturn Coupe in the city. We weren't even dating then. He picked me up and we made our way (with our then significant others) out of Manhattan to Atlantic City for the weekend. Four of us in a tiny car. I can still picture it.
The diner a friend and I used to go to - we'd sit and talk for hours over melted cheesy dinners and mashed potatoes. Our little Greek waiter who never asked us to leave. Irish coffees on snowy nights.
The park across the street from my office. I met friends there, ate lunch there, finalized a break-up there. I can still feel what it was like to sit facing the building that held so many people I grew up with over the 9 years we worked together. From office to office, Manhattan was our home.
The happy hours that never ended. Random bars with names like The Stoned Crow and No Idea? and Bar 19 and Barrow Street Ale House. Pool tables and cigarettes and way too many ciders.
Living on the Upper East Side and walking over to Central Park on a Spring morning. Headphones in my ears, music blaring and people brunching on the sidewalks of local restaurants.
Bagel stores, diners, pizza places. Ben and Jerry's ice cream from the corner bodega. Polyester's. Culture Club. Webster Hall. Dragging my laundry across First Avenue. Doing the same with our very first Christmas tree. Two roommates in a duplex apartment. Many many New Years Eve parties.
Yoga classes on 14th street, kick-boxing and roller-blading in Chelsea, bellydancing on the Upper West Side. Latin fitness with a group of co-workers. Bellydance with another. Tapas in Manhattan. Guacamole made fresh at your table. Bachelorette parties. Feather boas and candy necklaces. Walking arm in arm with the people I loved.
On the day of my first job interview in the city I met up with a friend and we went to the NY Rangers Stanley Cup Parade. Many years later, making that same trip walking downtown with friends to catch a few minutes of ticker-tape for that pinstriped NY baseball team. A similar walk from the office to the San Gennaro Festival. Zeppoles and powdered sugar that stuck to your lips and fingers. Splayed all over my shirt.
Staying up late in junior high school when the Mets won the 1986 World Series. The incredible thrill I get, the chills up and down my arms, when I watch games 6 and 7 to this day.
Thinking of the game at Shea I went to mid-September 2001. I took the 7 train and traveled solo. I went to the game to feel. It was a Friday night after baseball started up again in New York. Flag flying, tears flowing. Emotions high.
September 11th.
The moments it all came clear. The blue sky I looked up at as I walked from the subway to my office, still unaware. The fighter jets overhead as a friend and I walked uptown, inching our way closer and closer to a means of getting home. The view from the window of my Astoria apartment. A totally different sky.
So much. Too much to rehash every year, and yet we always do. We have to. We need to. Sometimes we don't need to, but we do anyway.
This year I approached things differently. I submitted a post to Band Back Together for today, the eleventh anniversary. I talk about moving forward, while always, ALWAYS looking back to remember.
I've written posts each year for my blog. Last year, for the tenth anniversary.
In 2012 I compared, Then and Now.
In 2009 I lacked my own words. I borrowed someone else's.
Today I am tired. I'm sad. I'm thinking of the words I used when explaining this to my daughter, albeit briefly, this morning.
"Many years ago there were some bad people who did something bad on this day," ... I found myself pausing for a split second. Would she learn about this in school today? I HAD to say something more. "And because of what they did two buildings fell down in New York City."
How simple is that? It's way too simple. Way too easy.
But she's five. Five and a half, if we're pushing it. She's in her third week - not even third full week! - of kindergarten. What else could I say?
The day will come where more words will be necessary. And I hope that by then I will find them. In the meantime, I'll remember in my head, my heart, every aspect of my being - and she will help me to forget as the day goes on.
And every year the anniversary will come. People will cry. Shake their heads. Take deep breaths and try to move on. And so will I. But I will always write.
Now you know why.
Things that hold onto my heart and remind me of the beauty and the joy that is New York.
I got caught up in talking about things like the food. The food in NYC is incredible. But you know that. You know *I* know that. I don't need to focus on that. I need to stick to the moments. The good and the bad. If food should make an appearance, so be it.
So I look to my memories of nights out on the Upper East Side with friends. $40 cab rides home to Brooklyn. Quick stops at the diner for a grilled cheese. Kamikaze shots and Alabama Slammers.
Walking hand in hand with my now husband to the train through a snowy Manhattan night. Losing a glove somewhere along the way as we tightened our grip on one another - finding each other somehow.
The first time he drove his new Saturn Coupe in the city. We weren't even dating then. He picked me up and we made our way (with our then significant others) out of Manhattan to Atlantic City for the weekend. Four of us in a tiny car. I can still picture it.
The diner a friend and I used to go to - we'd sit and talk for hours over melted cheesy dinners and mashed potatoes. Our little Greek waiter who never asked us to leave. Irish coffees on snowy nights.
The park across the street from my office. I met friends there, ate lunch there, finalized a break-up there. I can still feel what it was like to sit facing the building that held so many people I grew up with over the 9 years we worked together. From office to office, Manhattan was our home.
The happy hours that never ended. Random bars with names like The Stoned Crow and No Idea? and Bar 19 and Barrow Street Ale House. Pool tables and cigarettes and way too many ciders.
Living on the Upper East Side and walking over to Central Park on a Spring morning. Headphones in my ears, music blaring and people brunching on the sidewalks of local restaurants.
Bagel stores, diners, pizza places. Ben and Jerry's ice cream from the corner bodega. Polyester's. Culture Club. Webster Hall. Dragging my laundry across First Avenue. Doing the same with our very first Christmas tree. Two roommates in a duplex apartment. Many many New Years Eve parties.
Yoga classes on 14th street, kick-boxing and roller-blading in Chelsea, bellydancing on the Upper West Side. Latin fitness with a group of co-workers. Bellydance with another. Tapas in Manhattan. Guacamole made fresh at your table. Bachelorette parties. Feather boas and candy necklaces. Walking arm in arm with the people I loved.
On the day of my first job interview in the city I met up with a friend and we went to the NY Rangers Stanley Cup Parade. Many years later, making that same trip walking downtown with friends to catch a few minutes of ticker-tape for that pinstriped NY baseball team. A similar walk from the office to the San Gennaro Festival. Zeppoles and powdered sugar that stuck to your lips and fingers. Splayed all over my shirt.
Staying up late in junior high school when the Mets won the 1986 World Series. The incredible thrill I get, the chills up and down my arms, when I watch games 6 and 7 to this day.
Thinking of the game at Shea I went to mid-September 2001. I took the 7 train and traveled solo. I went to the game to feel. It was a Friday night after baseball started up again in New York. Flag flying, tears flowing. Emotions high.
September 11th.
The moments it all came clear. The blue sky I looked up at as I walked from the subway to my office, still unaware. The fighter jets overhead as a friend and I walked uptown, inching our way closer and closer to a means of getting home. The view from the window of my Astoria apartment. A totally different sky.
So much. Too much to rehash every year, and yet we always do. We have to. We need to. Sometimes we don't need to, but we do anyway.
This year I approached things differently. I submitted a post to Band Back Together for today, the eleventh anniversary. I talk about moving forward, while always, ALWAYS looking back to remember.
I've written posts each year for my blog. Last year, for the tenth anniversary.
In 2012 I compared, Then and Now.
In 2009 I lacked my own words. I borrowed someone else's.
Today I am tired. I'm sad. I'm thinking of the words I used when explaining this to my daughter, albeit briefly, this morning.
"Many years ago there were some bad people who did something bad on this day," ... I found myself pausing for a split second. Would she learn about this in school today? I HAD to say something more. "And because of what they did two buildings fell down in New York City."
How simple is that? It's way too simple. Way too easy.
But she's five. Five and a half, if we're pushing it. She's in her third week - not even third full week! - of kindergarten. What else could I say?
The day will come where more words will be necessary. And I hope that by then I will find them. In the meantime, I'll remember in my head, my heart, every aspect of my being - and she will help me to forget as the day goes on.
And every year the anniversary will come. People will cry. Shake their heads. Take deep breaths and try to move on. And so will I. But I will always write.
Now you know why.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Missed Communications
"Mommy, I want my hayut."
Your what?
"My hayut."
I looked at my child, her hazle-toned eyes staring at me. Waiting. And waiting some more.
I looked around. Her what?
"Mommy," the tone was already hitting teenage levels. She was only three. How was that even possible?
I'm looking, honey, I'm looking.
The kitchen table? Maybe?
Is it here, sweetheart? A shake of the head. What about inside? More shaking.
I honestly have no clue what you're asking for child - I wish I did because that would help us avoid any sort of a meltdown and it would make mommy very happy ...
"My hayut, mommy. I want to go outside. I need my hayut."
Oh my sweet mother of G-d, her HAT!
Hang on, baby. Mommy will get your hat for you.
If you don't know me well enough yet - you'll know that I in no way whatsoever have myself a Southern accent. We've been here since 2006, and I can adjust my dialect with the best of them. (I once spent less than three days in England and seriously picked up the tone when speaking with people around me. I kid you not.) But I do not have a Southern tone at all. None whatsoever. I even laugh at myself when I say y'all, as it just doesn't flow. I call my daughter ma'am sometimes because it just comes out - I swore it never would - but it does - and it still sounds ridiculous. So when I sit here and listen to the sounds that come out of my child's mouth, I am often amazed at how Southern she sounds. She's a Southern belle of her own making, and her New Yorker momma and her New England-Maine-ah daddy ain't got nothin' to do with how she uses her words.
Now I just can't wait til she starts going to school. Whooiee. We're in trouble then!
Your what?
"My hayut."
I looked at my child, her hazle-toned eyes staring at me. Waiting. And waiting some more.
I looked around. Her what?
"Mommy," the tone was already hitting teenage levels. She was only three. How was that even possible?
I'm looking, honey, I'm looking.
The kitchen table? Maybe?
Is it here, sweetheart? A shake of the head. What about inside? More shaking.
I honestly have no clue what you're asking for child - I wish I did because that would help us avoid any sort of a meltdown and it would make mommy very happy ...
"My hayut, mommy. I want to go outside. I need my hayut."
Oh my sweet mother of G-d, her HAT!
Hang on, baby. Mommy will get your hat for you.
If you don't know me well enough yet - you'll know that I in no way whatsoever have myself a Southern accent. We've been here since 2006, and I can adjust my dialect with the best of them. (I once spent less than three days in England and seriously picked up the tone when speaking with people around me. I kid you not.) But I do not have a Southern tone at all. None whatsoever. I even laugh at myself when I say y'all, as it just doesn't flow. I call my daughter ma'am sometimes because it just comes out - I swore it never would - but it does - and it still sounds ridiculous. So when I sit here and listen to the sounds that come out of my child's mouth, I am often amazed at how Southern she sounds. She's a Southern belle of her own making, and her New Yorker momma and her New England-Maine-ah daddy ain't got nothin' to do with how she uses her words.
Now I just can't wait til she starts going to school. Whooiee. We're in trouble then!
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