The beginning of something amazing.
June 27, 2023
I haven’t been swimming yet and it’s almost the end of June. We tried yesterday; made it to James Paul’s pool, peeled off clothes and settled on lounge chairs. While I waited to feel my skin grow hot and ready for a plunge, thunder clouds rolled in, followed by thunder.
If there hadn’t been kids’ watching, I probably would have jumped in, just to say I’d been swimming. But there were, and so I slid back into shorts, folded my towel and went inside to watch golf. The afternoon improved drastically over dinner at Legal Seafood’s, which is even more of a treat than a ten second dunk in ice water. The Cucumber Margarita was a revelation, but, and James, don’t take this the wrong way, calamari is better fried, sauteed, the tentacles just look too damn naked.
This summer, Sophia won’t be back at her post near the fence in our tiny yard, yelling at people, then daintily nibbling treats from their hands. But Bernie and Nell have taken up the job. They have also continued the cookie party tradition, and gobble biscuits every night before bed. These last longer, since they spend a lot of time sniffing around under the covers, snorting and looking for crumbs. Sophia never looked for crumbs.
I thought summer would feel different, now that both my kids are older, and don’t rely on me to remember the sunblock, nag them about jobs, or a curfew.
It doesn’t.
I grew used to swimming at our town pool by myself by the time Katy was nine. When she was twelve, the only time I’d see her at Canobie Lake Amusement Park, was when she needed money for snacks or souvenirs.
When Katy, me, and some friends, went to the amusement park last Friday, she ate dinner with Amy and I, and paid for her own burrito. I did Venmo her money for gas, but she hadn’t asked, and let her take the car so we could leave early. She left fifteen minutes after we did. I think Katy’s almost my age, sometimes, at nineteen.
I do not miss the days of helping tiny bodies wriggle into swim suits or tracking Colin’s movements on Find My Iphone- (though the only outcome from that fun game was a series of mean text messages I’ve managed to forget and the knowledge that he needs to figure out where is he is and where he wants to go, without my help. That might take some time, but I’m not watching the clock or the calendar).
I will spend more time in the city, exploring the neighborhoods I used to live and remembering who I was when I lived there. I will check out a concert or three at the pavilion by the water. I will swim in the ocean at Nantasket, and in the lake at Ponkapoag. I will get to know the attendants at Cunningham Pool, so they are forgiving when I forget my pool tag.
I will use sun block and eat local. I will help Sheldon with the garden and check out the comedy at the Milton Art Center. I will spend time with friends, in person, and will learn how to use SnapChat because I look so damn cute in the filters.
I will stop fussing that it’s the end of June and I haven’t been swimming.
It’s only the end of June; I have time to go swimming. I have time to go back to Canobie Lake Park to try the roller coaster we didn’t have time for, ride my bike to Boston along the new bike path, and eat ice cream in a parking lot, quick before it melts on my shirt.
It will end up on my shirt, anyway.
And, honestly, who cares.
It’s summertime. I usually have a change of clothes in the car.
What’s on your list?
Maybe Ten Steps AWay
July 1, 2014
This is the weekend our next door neighbors finally packed up their things and moved. Well, that’s not true. They’ve been packing their things for three months now. I’ve been mourning their departure for about six months, when Thao first told me they had rented a home in Atlanta. So we’ve been saying good bye for a long, long time.
Saturday night, I took my daughter and the two girls that lived next door for so long up to Canobie Lake Park. I wanted to give them one last adventure together,and get them away from the boxes and the trash bags and all of the detritus that clutters a house that is being left. I let the older daughter bring a friend, as a bribe to get her to come too. It’s lonely at Canobie, with four pre-teen and teenage girls, all of whom would rather do anything than go on the chicken ride with me. But I brought a book. I had decided it was not my night to be a martyr, but to be a good mom and a great friend.
Thao, the mom, thinks she doesn’t speak very good English but I always understood what she was saying. We worried about our children together, while I stood in her beautiful kitchen with the shiniest floors in the world. She loves bananas and etsy and beautiful clothes. She has a smile so big I would laugh whenever she smiled at me.
Tue is the youngest. She grew up with Katy. They made videos of themselves dancing along to pop songs, and I’d watch them tonight, but then I will not only miss the Vo’s but the two little girls that aren’t so little any more. Tue is crazy smart. She told me yesterday that she is concerned today’s youth are becoming too disconnected from the world. I’m glad she’s one of today’s youth, she gives me hope.
Thanh is older, she’s in my son Colin’s grade. She is level headed, and kind, and hates fruit with an intensity most people save for brussels sprouts or really bad winters. She used to be shy and nervous. I remember once taking her with my family to Scream Fest, and spending the evening walking around looking for something that didn’t look very scary. I think I ate a lot o junk food that night. Now she is self possessed and graceful. If she is still nervous, I think it’s mostly about being made to eat fruit. And since it is unlikely she will ever find herself in a situation where that happens, I think she’ll be fine. Better than fine. Thanh is and will be amazing.
I never knew their Dad’s name until yesterday. It’s Hue, though I’m sure I spelled it wrong. He would show up at our door with huge bowls of noodle soup, or massive slivers of cake, or platters of shiny chicken wings. He is the only man I know that looks good in red pants. He loves his family.
And Coco. Coco was their little mini pinscher. Coco is a mean, nasty, yappy little dog and Coco probably loves me better than anyone. Ever. Than my mom even. Being loved like that feels really good, even when he’s trying to jam his sharp toothed little head into my mouth.
There is much more to say. But I’m going to let it be tonight. In life there is love and change and loss. And there is the blessing of truly getting to know another family, and the thousands of memories they have given us over the years.
Tonight, after we had said our goodbyes, my daughter grabbed me by the hand. She said- “Come on, Mom, we have to go stand by the drive way and wave good bye.
I had, like I mentioned, laundry to put away. So many phone calls to make. An online test I need to complete for my job. A library book that needed finding, and a dishwasher that needed loading.
But I followed her outside. We stood at the front of the house,by the porch that Katy and Tue played in all winter long. I’m really not sure what they did in there, just that it involved boxes and plastic dolls and a chalkboard. We waited in the twilight, on the stoop, next to an abandoned coffee cup. Ten minutes went by. I got impatient, all that damned stuff pressing down like a thousand heavy boxes on me. “We’re waiting, Mom.”
We got bit by mosquitos. We talked about books and camp and being nicer to her older brother. I think I saw a bat.
And when they pulled out, we waved goodbye and we smiled and we told them good luck.
And then we walked home in the dark. But it wasn’t far. Ten steps maybe. They were as close to us as neighbors can be. And really, really, really wonderful friends.
julierichmond 