Inside my jewelry box are two plastic T passes that I acquired for use by Daphne and Etan when they come to Boston. I added money to the passes more than two months ago – fully aware that my daughter and her husband would not be visiting until Memorial Day weekend.
Dennis and I had just returned from visiting the kids in Orlando where they write for a newspaper, and I needed to do something in anticipation of our next get-together. We see each other once or twice a year at each of our respective home bases, supplemented by meet-ups at family events in New York and other cities, and I always wish our visits were more frequent.
Whether Daphne or Etan even use the T passes will depend on whether they want to take the train down to Newbury Street or Harvard Square. But adding money to the passes helped me visualize the prospect of their visit. I could even imagine the three of us getting on the train together, perhaps getting brunch or stopping in at J.P. Licks, where Etan can get the soy ice cream his lactose intolerance demands.
Please don’t talk to me about living in the moment. I’ve heard it all. I know I shouldn’t be visualizing that moment when I’m dropping them off at Logan airport late Monday, feeling sad about their going home – when I still have more than a week to go before I even pick them up at the airport.
Not to mention the fact that I still need to clean our condo to that illusory eat off the floor standard, despite the fact that it’s reasonably clean. I’m also agonizing about whether I should take next Friday off from work, ostensibly to do major food shopping in anticipation of Daphne and Etan’s arrival.
Yes, there are those who use online grocery shopping services such as Peapod. But even if Peapod had what I needed, I’m one of those people who relishes the experience of walking up and down the aisles of Whole Foods and Trader Joes, wondering what special treats I might find for these grown children.
The fact is that aside from a family barbeque at the home of Dennis’ brother-in-law in Point of Pines, Revere, we will most likely eat out. Still, I would feel inhospitable if I didn’t have the “everything” bagels and soy cream cheese that Etan likes, and the red pepper humus and carrots Daphne enjoys. My own self-image as a good enough mother requires that I go to Finagle A Bagel in the absence of H&H.
Earlier this year I was at a wedding in Atlanta. The mother of the bride told me she felt sad that her daughter would be living hundreds of miles away. She then turned to me and said it must be just as hard for me to have Daphne living so far away.
Chalk it up to my being the mother of an only child if you want, or even my pride about not seeming needy. Posturing more than necessary, I told her I’d reared Daphne to be self-reliant and independent. Indeed I expected her to go to college in a different city, just as I had. Citing the "convenience" of airplanes, I said I was fine about Daphne living in Orlando.
The old cliché that life is short applies even more so to visits. Then there’s life as we experience it. I’m still savoring that last visit in Orlando, and anticipating both the arrival and conclusion of our visit next weekend – wishing we had more time together.
Daphne may cringe when she reads this -- reminding me it just two weeks after Memorial Day weekend, we will all be seeing each other in New York. Dennis and I had planned to be there anyway for the engagement party of my oldest friend, Bonnie Merzer Izen. When I heard that Etan is speaking at what’s been billed as the largest Twitter event in the world, Jeff Keni Pulver’s 140 Characters Conference, I couldn’t resist adding a few days to our stay in New York.
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