Last year in the middle of October my mom came for a visit. The weather was perfection. We ate lunch in the park every afternoon. And when I came home from school at night she was there waiting for me. And she was there when I woke in the morning. We walked along the Hudson and through the Conservatory Garden. We went to Sotheby's to see the Grace Kelly exhibit.
We gawked at the dresses. And the jewels.
And we shopped as all girls must. And I felt so protected and loved. She braved a week in New York City, which she hates, just to be with me. She went everyday to Fairway. And she made sure I had enough Tupperware. And we bought New Yorker magazine covers from the street venders by Time Warner just so I would have more in the apartment that felt like my own. She loved me as only a mother can at a time when I needed it most.
It's a year later and she's back. Though this time we're both technically in NJ and I can only see her for about 20 minutes in the morning before I leave to babysit and then 30 minutes before bed when I return from the daily sojourn to Brooklyn for class. But this go round I'm a bit happier and Ned's grip is a bit looser and that is due directly to her visit one year ago.
So tomorrow instead of Brooklyn, I'm gonna sojourn to Ikea. And I get to do it with my mom. And when I turn twenty-three on Saturday I get to do it with my mom.
I'm so, so lucky.
