Precious Time
Apr. 15th, 2003 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
talktoolooseMy dad and I just came back from our second day of doing Manhattan. I find myself very aware that he is turning 78 and I can't take for granted that he will be energetic and healthy for such activities for much longer.
On the train into the city from Long Island, he tells me stories of my mother when she was 17. She didn't know any of the hip expressions of 1945 and he always had to subtitle conversations. She was slowly coming out of the dark shell of her over-protective parents' dark apartment and blossoming into the funny wise woman he would live with for the next 55 years and counting.
In the city, we get along well with none of the fights that used to punctuate all our interaction. Is this because he's making an effort not to get a rise out of me or because I no longer have to prove my independence every time we see each other? Both, obviously. I find myself watching out for him everywhere. Does he notice that hole in the sidewalk? I'll get him that chair because it will be better for his back. This change in our relationship makes me feel proud and wistful.
We have lunch with my 19 year old nephew (his oldest grandson) near the School for Visual Arts where he's studying. He's a big guy now; navigating Manhattan, making career decisions, and he wants us to be impressed. And he's happy that we've made the effort to see him, though too cool to mention it.
These are good days with family and I'm pissed as hell with my brother for not joining us. Oh, well. My dad and I are off to Laguardia now to pick up Snake. Bye.
On the train into the city from Long Island, he tells me stories of my mother when she was 17. She didn't know any of the hip expressions of 1945 and he always had to subtitle conversations. She was slowly coming out of the dark shell of her over-protective parents' dark apartment and blossoming into the funny wise woman he would live with for the next 55 years and counting.
In the city, we get along well with none of the fights that used to punctuate all our interaction. Is this because he's making an effort not to get a rise out of me or because I no longer have to prove my independence every time we see each other? Both, obviously. I find myself watching out for him everywhere. Does he notice that hole in the sidewalk? I'll get him that chair because it will be better for his back. This change in our relationship makes me feel proud and wistful.
We have lunch with my 19 year old nephew (his oldest grandson) near the School for Visual Arts where he's studying. He's a big guy now; navigating Manhattan, making career decisions, and he wants us to be impressed. And he's happy that we've made the effort to see him, though too cool to mention it.
These are good days with family and I'm pissed as hell with my brother for not joining us. Oh, well. My dad and I are off to Laguardia now to pick up Snake. Bye.
