The Train Home

After dropping our daughter (and grand-kitty!) off for her train back to the city, I thought about how she’s really returning home. When she comes “home” to visit, it’s just that - a visit. New York City is her home now. 

She has created her own way there - her routine, her new life. She has a job. She has a sweet apartment in the Lower East Side. She has a new roommate and a group of friends she met only after moving there. She has her bagel shop, her coffee spot, her grocery store, her gym, her park, and her walk to work. And, thankfully, she has her Uncles less than a mile away.

While bursting with pride for her accomplishments, it signifies a shift in our relationship. No longer is she the young daughter who looks to us for guidance on what to think; she now has her own opinions on everything from social justice to mental health to the patriarchy - and strong ones at that! 

I imagine her visits here are as confusing for her (an adult child back in her childhood bedroom) as they are for us. It has absolutely changed the dynamic of our relationship and both of us are working hard to navigate what that looks like. It might involve some complex interactions but always ends up in a good and better place. 

At the end of it all, she’s doing exactly what we raised her to do - to work hard and play hard, and to be an independent, productive, caring and kind citizen. But I hope she knows…this, too, will always be her home.

Peace on the Harbor

This is us, sneaking away after the madness of the holidays to get some quiet time on Winter Harbor in Mathews, a tiny and very quaint town on the Middle Peninsula of Virginia. Bert discovered a sweet spot of land here three years ago. We wanted to build but the entire peninsula is essentially wetlands and it is expensive and potentially damaging to do so.

The next best thing? Finding a 100+ year old farmhouse on the water that has been lovingly restored. Who needs to build when you can find a piece of beauty like this?! We found it, bid on it, and closed in only four weeks.

The call of the waterfowl, the rush of the lapping tide, the color of the setting sun… we have found our new peace at Morningside.

Cocktails with kids

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We celebrated over the holidays with our kids - all adults now, if you consider 18 actually an adult. Bloodies and mimosas on Christmas morning, and other celebrations throughout New Years. It's a strange thing when you finally can enjoy a cocktail with your kids. You shift from the disciplinarian to the drinking buddy, which does bring some challenges and fuzzy guidelines/house rules. 

Enjoying the Christmas spirit(s)

I remember well making that transition with my parents - my Dad, in particular. Dad took his cocktails seriously. He mixed them purely (only homemade simple syrup and freshly squeezed juices) and quite strong. He said "If you don't like the taste of liquor, you shouldn't drink." Some of my most cherished mementos of Dad's are his daiquiri shaker, his cocktail recipe book, and an amazing retro traveling bar (to be highlighted in another blog another day).

The problem with enjoying a few drinks with your kids is that it portends implicit permission which is mostly okay but also a bit of a concern for those technically underage - read: college. But let's not pretend that college kids aren't imbibing. 

When you shift from locking up the liquor cabinet and not allowing them to swipe your beers from the beverage fridge to teaching them moderation, you've reached another phase of parenting. Further, it's difficult to teach moderation when you're not modeling it yourself - thank you, Covid. (This too is another blog for another day.)

At the end of the day, one doesn't need alcohol to have fun, but I like to think that enjoying a cocktail with one of my daughters or sons is, in some twisted way, an homage to my Dad.

 

A New Phase of Mother's Day

As your kids get older, Mother's Day celebrations change. Gone are the days of being awakened way too early by ragamuffins with matted hair and sweet morning breath who brandish a tray of overcooked eggs, garden flowers, handmade cards, and then snuggles in bed. They are older now and are busy with life, and college exams, and sleeping in because they were out so late for Prom.

But it's all okay. I get an early morning text from the college girl. I enjoy a coffee date with my eldest. And I hear (eventually) from the other two who wake up after noon, asking for food and not even realizing that their Mom is not at home.

In lieu of tacky jewelry and homemade gifts, I receive a lovely bag of goodies from Stella's market. They know their Mama... a hydrangea, a bottle of wine, a gorgeous tea towel, and a sweet treat, along with this card that makes me LOL.

I revel in who they are now. Two fiercely independent young women - one of whom is an entrepreneur and building her own business and another who just snagged her dream job in her dream city. And two ridiculously sweet, smart, empathetic and sloppy young men who respect their Mom and indulge her hugs and kisses when they'd really rather not.

It's a new phase of Mother's Day-ness. Will be interesting to see how things change in the coming years as more of the chicks leave the nest. XOX to my life's greatest accomplishments.

Dreaming of Daddy

I was in a happy place. Somewhere warm and balmy. With friends. It was a party. Maybe by a pool? A warm summer night. The stars were so clear. There was music and dancing and carousing. There were lights and lots of people. I was wearing a swimsuit with a swingy cover-up, flip-flops, carrying a beer and feeling so happy.

We were all walking along, somewhere, no idea where, and I turned and looked over my right shoulder. There he was. My Dad. Wearing his ubiquitous khakis, white walking shoes, "that stripey shirt," and his USS Guam hat. I was a bit surprised to see him - you know, since he's passed and all. He simply said "It feels so good to walk." Even in my dream, my heart was soaring. I felt such joy because Daddy hadn't walked on his own in probably 10 years.

He plodded along right next to me. I grabbed his hand. It was warm and as strong as ever. I always adored his hands. I traced his veins with my finger. I got the feeling that we had a longer conversation but all I recall him saying is "I don't know what I'd do without you, Beth. I couldn't live without you." To which I responded "I love you so, so much Daddy," and wrapped my arm through his and rested my head on his shoulder.

We walked along silently for a bit. He smelled good. He smelled like "healthy Dad." He felt good. He felt like "strong Dad." I felt peace. And then I woke up and thought, WTF was that?! I laughed a bit and then went back to sleep.

I've often heard of signs and dreams people receive/have after loved ones have passed. I have wondered if they are actual signs from beyond, or if we "encourage" ourselves to find or force them for our own comfort. Or to answer unanswered questions. Or tend to whatever we need. Or just pure and simple coincidence. At the end of the day, I guess it doesn't really matter. Cuz I got to walk and talk with my Daddy last night, on a warm summer night, hold his hand, and look at the stars. <3

I was mean to Mama today

I was mean to Mama today. I didn’t mean to be. I didn’t want to be. I guess we all have our limits but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Anyone who knows my Mama knows she is the sweetest, kindest, most gentle soul. Snapping at her tonight was the equivalent kicking a puppy...hurting someone who can’t help it and depends on you to take care of them.

The simplest of tasks confound her now. Any change completely stresses her out. Such was the case when her flip phone (circa 2007) finally pooped out. We went on Saturday to purchase a new one. Turns out the store had only one flip style phone available. As luck would have it, it was IDENTICAL to the one that just died. The customer service rep was awesome and transferred all the info, contacts, etc. Truly, she only calls three people - me and my two brothers; still, she is having a very hard time using it.

I have received no fewer than thirty phone calls in 5 days telling me she cannot use it. Yet, she's calling me from her phone...to tell me she cannot use it. Sigh.

She begs me to come to Winchester to help her with it. I tell her I was just there and cannot come for awhile. I tell her it's the same phone. She says it's not. I say, no...it really is. She insists it's not. So I very curtly say "OK." I cannot speak anymore. She knows I'm upset. She apologizes and very quickly ends the call, and I hang my head and cry.

I wish I could take it back but I'll just try to learn from it. Life is difficult sometimes. Loving someone with Alzheimer's is hard. I'll try to forgive myself and move on, and be a better daughter tomorrow. 

While she likely won't even remember the conversation, I certainly will. 

Parental Haiku

Her mind is fleeting

His body has betrayed him

I miss my parents