I am now living in New York (yes, dreams do come true). I am working on a couple of projects that I will write about soon but for now I'm busy organizing and getting settled. While sifting through cards and kid's drawings and event tickets, I stumbled on something my husband gave me on the first night of Hannukah in 2009. It was so beautiful and timely that I wanted to share.
What do I remember about the beginning? I remember your smile the first time you came for dinner and the way I could talk to you without the clumsiness I usually had with beautiful women. I remember driving to see you at Paradise Cove, having lunch on the beach, and walking hand-in-hand on the shore. I remember driving to the theater on one of our first dates and getting lost and confused and not having you yell at me; telling me it was OK. Being with you in different places and wondering what was happening to my fear of relationships, of my own perceived inability to love and relate. The fear of vulnerability.
I remember our first night together, wanting you and the fear of being inappropriate. I remember looking at your bags alongside the couch when you came over. It seemed so natural for them to be there. I would bring the puppies to smell your things and watch them wag their tails. Some non-verbal communication. I remember the first time they met you and fell in love with you, erasing their prior life of fear and tension. I remember driving you to your apartment in Santa Monica and using paper clips to get your TV to work and I remember the first time I used your knives in your kitchen. I wanted you to have better ones but you explained they had always served you well, and your mother, and your nonie.
I remember the party you had and the food you prepared and the wine you served. It was strange to watch you so at ease, talking with friends and family, no stress, no time limits, no expectations. I remember time passing so quickly on our drives that we didn't know how we had gotten there. I remember walking in the dark to get the keys to the cabin we rented in Cambria, drinking three martinis and getting drunk. Your birthday strip tease for me to Tom Jones' sex bomb. The Sophia Loren negligee you hid all night under your trench coat dress. Starting to feel alive again.
I remember New York and the way you looked at me when we brought your torn bag to the airline office and I got them to arrange for a new one the next day in the city. You never asked for this but made me feel like a hero for doing it. The walk we took through the park, stopping to sit on the bench and watch people with their dogs and noting how much alike they were. Loving your city which is also my city.
Taking you to your first formal opera at the Met and the dress you wore, and our dinner at Cafe Des Artistes. Watching Woody Allen at the Carlisle. Window shopping and browsing through stores. I remember paranoia at being gone from the room too long and not quite realizing that it was OK not to be on a very short leash. Walking back in the room and you smiling and saying, "Back already?"
I remember getting you a real turkey dinner at the hotel and watching Auntie Mame on Thanksgiving. I remember the puppies in your office as you worked and Cody in bed and wanting to shower with you. I remember the sauce you kept in the fridge to mix in the dog's food and the Parmesan cheese you grated on top. Being at the hospital on June 9th when our first grandson was born and bringing you lunch while you waited. I remember our trip to Hawaii and never turning on the TV. I remember the feel of your body next to me and the way your blonde hair tickled my nose as I scrunched up behind you.
I remember our Taxi ride to Manolo Blahnik and our walk to Prada in Italy. I know the history of your family and now look differently at the statue of Garibaldi in the park in New York. There is so much more, but there are seven more nights of Hannukah.
Posted at July 26, 2012 7:12 AM
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