It’s been a year since I last posted, a year since mom began to get ill. I knew she’d get better and put all my attention on making it happen. Mothers don’t pass away. My mother has always been in my life, no matter where I was I knew where to find her, she was a constant I could count on, so I knew this illness would pass. It didn’t matter she was almost 91, she was my ageless mother, with flaming red hair, an adorable body and a youthful attitude. As I cared for her, I lost interest in writing, in discovering the interesting, intriguing, humorous about this place where I now lived. All I wanted was a healthy mother with whom I could enjoy this city. And she did get better, after four days in the hospital and a few weeks at home. And then she grew ill again, and was less and less available, by then it didn’t matter what city I was in.
I didn’t know, until my mother’s death, what impact it would
have on me. I haven’t written, I haven’t wanted to write; it all seemed so
inconsequential, until few days ago.
I was looking for a tailor on the Upper East Side that I had
read about, and suddenly I heard a whistle, the kind we associate with
construction men admiring pretty young women. And then I heard it
again. I couldn’t help but to
smile, it had been a long time since I was a recipient. As I
continued up the street in search of the tailor, instead of seeing a
construction crew, outside a hair salon was a rather sizeable bird cage housing
two large and beautiful multi-colored parrots who seemed to be having as much
fun whistling as I was listening to them. For a moment I forgot my sadness and
remembered how unique New York is, how creative the people who live here are,
and remembered why I even thought I could fall back in love with this city, and
write about it in this blog.
New York, New York, what a wonder full town!
