Today we leave for a trip to New York. Today is exactly six months from the moment we left New York on a plane from JFK, headed to our new home in London- a city I had only ever previously been in for 5 days in 2002. You know how sometimes you just have a feeling about something? I had that feeling, and I knew we could move, and I knew it would all be okay.
I also had a feeling that I shouldn’t go back and visit New York until I knew I would safely be able to leave again. Well, I am not so sure. Six months wouldn’t have been my first choice. It’s close enough that I can too accurately remember my brownstone apartment, the $7 manicures, menus from 400 restaurants that deliver, the way the Empire State and Chrysler buildings helped me navigate myself directionally, the flavor of the F train, the never-tiring of walking by Bryant Park and the New York Public Library, celebrity-sightings of people I would recognize, the treasure trove of Century 21’s basement, the ubiquity of Thai food, good Italian food, and the hard time it is to find a chain. I can feel the air conditioning, sweltering heat, and remember the one day each year that for five minutes my neighborhood is covered in a blanket of snow. And knowing which bar had a fireplace. The 24-hour bodegas still call my name with their Pacifico and Ben & Jerry’s Mint Chocolate Cookie. I remember driving or training East on weekends with all the other east-bound, and the way we all exhaled the second we crossed into Suffolk County. It’s just a little soon, is all.
But we have a nephew to see and so the timing is now. And to see the friends and family we miss so much, well, that will be perfect. And that was never going to get easier with time- six months or six years.
And we are off with a bang, for sure. There is no better way to spend the night before a trip, than knee-dip in a clogged sink drain. Whatever corrosive material Bryan attempted to pour down the drain had a warning label the likes I have never before seen. Something about no skin contact, at least 20 minutes of cold-water scrubbing and calling a hospital immediately. And burns. Oh, and it melted through his pants and socks. So the boy decides to splash his hands around in the stuff for an hour, and then promptly go to bed. It’s FINE, Yael. I’ve done it a million times before. He tells me this as he jams his bright-red fingertips under the pillow (maybe to ease the scalding burns??). Really? I’ve known you nine years and never remember you handling Sodium Hydroxide and a drain flange. Must have been when I was out one day.
I worried when I woke up this morning that maybe Bryan had gone to work with all ten of his fingerprints eroded off his hands. But then I received a group email from him as follows:
Subject: One of those days you will always remember…
The day we landed on the moon
The Challenger tragedy
The final episode of Seinfeld
The day the Jets traded for Brett Favre….
Okay, so I’m exaggerating just a little (but not that much).
And since the people on the bus with me this morning had no idea what I was talking about when I said out loud, “The Jets just traded for Brett Favre,” I had to email all of you.
Maybe Yael and I will run into him at the airport tonight….anyone have season tixx for sale?
So the unsuccessful plumber will be fine after all. And we can go to New York.