Saturday, May 2, 2015

Throw back to when the parents visited Manhattan

The best part of having my parents here was when I got sick Saturday-Sunday. (I think from drinking too much hot chocolate, eating too many bagels/dosas/etc., and walking around non-stop in the freezing March weather.) We left church early on Sunday so I could come home and sleep and possibly puke. I rested on the couch and the Faj and I chatted for a couple hours. Mostly about mom and our secret fears. I ended up being the worst host and Faj made dinner.

After dinner, the three of us lay in my adult-size bed and I leaned my cheek against the Faj's flannel-clad arm while he read poetry he wrote about his mom dying, of my then-small little brother stopping while walking to examine grass and flowers, and of me when I was a little girl - my socked feet padding down the hall to my parents' room after waking up in the early morning. My mom told a couple stories about growing up. I like to ask her to tell stories from her past - I like to imagine and remember who she used to be. 

At times, just my dad's voice and presence instills so much peace and calmness in me. The image of him standing with his hands in his pockets, or snapping and foot-tapping along with a spirited jazz piece while exclaiming, "Do you hear this kids?! Listen to that sax! This is good!" makes me feel that all is right in the world.

Sometimes my dad will repeat song lines to me while the song is playing. I don't really know how to explain it, but he'll repeat the line and say something like, "Hear that, Lambie?" I took a random video before I moved to New York. I was sitting on the couch in our living room and a Bruce Springsteen song was playing. I was weepy about moving to New York and I felt overwhelmed by how much I loved my home and my dad and sitting in my living room covered with walls of books and Dawson laying on the floor and music playing in the background. In the video, there's this part where Bruce Springsteen sings, "I break above the waves." And the Faj says, "Break above the waves, Lamb. You can do it." It's a silly little video, but it's super dear to my heart.



  1. so lovely, Nat. thanks for sharing. love you.

  2. You're killing me here! So beautiful. Something just occurs to me -- Mark and I will be there thus Saturday til Wednesday. Breakfast, lunch or dinner anyone? It may not work out. Mark is impossible to pin down but we should try.

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  4. I love reading your writing. You have a way of infusing the literary equivalent of tender violin notes in few words. It's lovely.