 |
| Atlantic Beach birthday |
A
week or so ago I dreamt that packages were arriving with my address in my
mother's beautiful handwriting. I was confused. I sensed that she was around
but was upset that I couldn't see her.
Then
last night, she was standing right next to me saying she had sent them. It was
so good to see her. Maybe she sensed that just sending the presents wasn't
enough and that I needed more.
I
had the dream that I have had before. I want to go to the beach house (in
Atlantic Beach) but we can't go there. Someone else is in the house and they
won't let us come. My parents say we just can't go there anymore.
The
puddles in the streets here in South Hadley the other day reminded me of the
puddles on Bermuda Street, riding our bikes through them after the rain. The
humidity made me think of driving to Long Beach to get ice cream at Baskin
Robbins, my mother getting mint chocolate chip.
 |
| Best present ever |
My
informal research has turned up an interesting factoid: Birthdays weren't such
a big deal in some families, but they definitely were in ours. At night:
"Wake up to a happy birthday!" In the morning, sleepily, kicking the
present at the foot of my bed with the crinkly light blue cover. The present of
all presents: the blue Smith Corona typewriter. My sister was jealous about my summer
birthday and I was jealous of hers in the winter. I didn't like being thrown in
the pool, at day camp, with my clothes on. The parties in the back yard were
pretty sweet, though. The trips to Cedarhurst to buy the party favors were a lot
of fun. She made a centerpiece and attached ribbons to it and the ribbons went
to each place with a little favor on it. The memory game helped me later on in
my writing. Study random items she put on a tray and try to remember as many as
possible and then write them down.
Later
when I outgrew the parties, my parents took some friends and me out to dinner.
My
50th birthday party, here in South Hadley, seems like yesterday. It was more
than a year after my first transplant, so I had gone back to work at the
newspaper. Paper people and neighborhood people were coming. I was just going
to have cake. "You can't just give them cake!" she said, or something
like that, and we rushed to the store and got what turned into a big festive
spread.
I
have also had the usual nightmares. I want to go back to work but the newspaper
has closed. Or I go into work and there are more empty desks than there are
people.
In
real life, though, I've done some dreamy and maybe even daring things. I rode
Margaret's e-bike and got the feel of it. It wasn't really daring because it
was on a bike path, though daring because my crew doesn't trust me on bikes. A
matinee at Jacob's Pillow, to see the Martha Graham Dance Company, with a drive
on back roads to and from, was dreamy. A ladies' lunch with Tami/Tamar in West
Hartford (our annual summer meeting) doesn't fit into daring or dreamy but I'm
into the Ds so I'll say it was definitely a lot of fun.
 |
| Headless at Tanglewood |
Did
I say that I have a big birthday coming up? My sister reminded me that it's
cause for celebration. Part of me knows that. The other part has internalized
our culture's ageism and thinks I'm pretty much over the hill. At least I can
walk up a hill when at many points I couldn't even do that. I didn’t get past
Season Two of Grace and Frankie and decided to revisit it and I’m glad I did
because it’s making me laugh about all this aging stuff.
On Sunday when we were at Tanglewood, I was taking a photo of the beautiful scenery when a woman came up and asked if I wanted her to take a photo of me. I said OK, sure. She chopped my head off. Maybe she was trying to tell me something.
No comments:
Post a Comment