Monthly Archives: January 2016

Letter to a Friend

Dear _____,

I was just thinking about who to write, when your name popped into my head. You’d think it would make more sense to write to people who are still alive. They’d probably appreciate it, and in fact, I do owe several people notes and emails. But you are the one I want to write to. Or if I’m saying this grammatically, you’re the one to whom I want to write. It’s just that that sounds so formal, and I don’t remember you being extremely formal.

Next week is the third anniversary of your death. We didn’t actually know each other that well, but I think about you all the time, because your death was so sudden and shocking, and because you left behind three young girls. I’m sharing this letter with people who don’t know your story, so I have to explain that you didn’t have ALS. But of course you know that. You were in the hospital having surgery to fix a blood clot – – is that the right way to say it? – – when you had a heart attack. You were 42.

How has it been three years? I remember coming to your house when I was pregnant and meeting your daughters. The youngest one was only 10 months old at the time. I remember sitting in your backyard and eating salads topped with freshly grilled chicken and laughing, because you were a really easy laugher, a trait I deeply admire. Read More>

On and Off…and On Again

Rob and Scarlett and I watched the first Harry Potter movie this weekend. I didn’t realize that it was over 2 1/2 hours long, so it was by far the longest movie she’s ever seen. I also wasn’t sure if maybe she was too young for it, because I don’t think that your average five-year-old is out there watching Harry Potter. Three-headed drooling monster dogs and a scary snakelike wizard whose evil face is coming out of the back of someone else’s head…it’s quite a step up from The Octonauts and Frozen.

But it’s an example of something I occasionally find myself doing, which is introducing her to a book, a movie, or a concept a little early just so that I can make sure I get to share it with her. We read Charlottes Web when she was four, even though I thought that might be a little bit early to deal with the themes and storyline. I think her mind probably strayed a little during the book, but ultimately she declared that she loved it, and she was especially fascinated when I started crying at the end. She brought Charlotte’s Web home from the school library this week. She wants to read it again.

Likewise, she really loved Harry Potter and didn’t seem at all afraid, and I think it helped that we had listened to the audiobook first, so that she knew the story and what to expect. When the hideous troll lumbered into the girls bathroom, Scarlett burst out laughing. Read More>

Picture This

I’ve been going through old pictures recently. Not the kind you print, because it’s been a long time since I’ve done that, but the ones on my computer that I haven’t seen in ages. Photos of ski trips, and hikes through the Costa Rican rainforest. Traveling with Rob on our first trip to London, when I met his family. A yoga trip in Mexico. Martha’s Vineyard right after we got engaged. Our wedding in Central Park. Our honeymoon in Italy.

I remember when I first saw most of those pictures, I thought I didn’t look so great. I picked apart my features, and judged myself in an unflattering light almost every time, but now I’m not sure why. The person I see in those photos is so fast and so active and so happy that I can’t really imagine ever thinking negatively of her. Maybe only time softens our opinions of ourselves.

Rob, Scarlett, Otto and I took holiday card photos in December with a great photographer, and I was still pretty critical of the way I looked. It’s easy to find fault with my appearance now, but I try not to do it. I have a five-year-old listening, and besides, I do like the way I look in some ways. My nails are stronger than ever, because they don’t do dishes or cook, and I certainly can’t get them in my mouth to bite them, no matter how anxious I might be feeling at any given moment. When my hair is clean (once or twice a week) it looks decent. I wear a dress every day, so I can’t be accused of schlubbing around. (But don’t inquire about the undergarments.) Read More>