So now I am safely (and happily) ensconced in Tamar’s beautiful home in Montclair, New Jersey. It took very little time to get to know where things are—where the glasses are kept, the silverware, where to put my clothes and toiletries, how to keep my bedding out of everyday sight (I’m camping on a very comfortable living room couch and the main floor being all one room, it is important to keep it clear in the daytime). I get to walk with Tamar and Damian in the morning to the school bus stop, meet the other mothers, walk back up their steep hill, go back again to meet the bus in the afternoon, enjoy the pleasures of being a grandmother. Damian has grown incredibly in the past year. Tall and lanky, smart, capable and feisty as usual. I like it here.
Yesterday I went into Manhattan. The atmosphere was rushed, but leisurely as well—people walking who would have taken the bus or subway. (The strike was settled while I was there and the trains are running again this morning.) Shops were empty. Not many non-Manhattanites were traveling into the city. I wasn’t there to shop.
First I had a tango lesson with the magical Rebecca Shulman of Dance Manhattan. I had seen an instructional video she had done with Daniel Trenner and was mesmerized by her bearing and her footwork. She taught me about embellishments: what I need to enjoy the dance even more. The dancing experience with Rebecca pulled me out of my somber mood, helped me to realize that I am very much alive. It’s hard to say this without feeling I am trivializing or dramatizing my feelings. My grief for Robert is very real, but I can still enjoy my life as it is now. He is still very much a part of my life, my history, and always will be. Nothing can change that. I have been surprised by the depth of my feelings for him. It was hard coming back from Rhode Island after visiting him. It is hard to talk about being upset about something but still being able to enjoy life. But I do think I have a better perspective now—on all of it.
After dancing, I went to visit my friend Lynn. We have known each other since our sons were nine, both at P.S. 3. They became friends; we became friends. We had dinner in Gobo, a great restaurant where we often meet on my visits here. Hardly anyone was there. The transit strike had definitely affected businesses. We talked about the past, the present, things we’ve shared, places and people, new things in our lives. And aspirations for the future.
While sitting there with Lynn, I could easily understand how Tamar wanted to come back here. To her roots. I have roots here too. It feels good to be with old friends, to be with someone I’ve known for a long time. We’ve both changed; we’ve had some rifts; we still understand and appreciate and enjoy each other. And I have other friends in the city. But I know I am still, at heart, a country girl. And it will be fine to go back to Nova Scotia and the big change about to come into my life: my pup—my new companion, a warm body in my house.
Posted by leya at December 23, 2005 12:00 PM