Youth
Lucy sent me photos of her house in Massachusetts. She is working for a city council this Summer, living in the bottom of a house with three other women.
Her marco polos, texts, phone calls, are filled with chaotic joy. Busy. So busy.
"I'm trying hard to get to bed before midnight. I mean, I have to get up by 6:30 to make it to work on time."
"Last night, the people upstairs threw us a welcome party. It was so much fun, but I am good and knackered today."
"I kind of like being single again. All that drama just....gone."
"There is this great Italian bakery right down the block from us. We eat bread almost constantly because it is just so good. I will be a plump hen by the end of Summer when I visit you."
I love hearing of her adventures. Her fun in marching in the Pride Parade. I devour her photos of her home. She was so determined to do this all on her own. I offered anything from our house, but she refused everything. I did see her stuffed bear laying across her bed, though. There was a time when if we lost that bear, it would have been a major trauma. We even had one hidden in a closet, just like it...but less worn. Just in case. Luckily, we never had to use it and I have no idea where it is now.
I smile as I look at the photos. Her yellow quilt on her bed. Her desk, neat as always. Her home is older and does not have air conditioning.
It is only when you are young that shit like this doesn't matter.
"I never minded the heat. You know that. And we were never big on turning on the a/c anyway. It had to be HOT before we gave in."
She's right. How I stood that, I have no idea now. And I remember all the apartments and houses that T and I lived in before we started being responsible adults.
The apartment that had no shower, only a clawed tub with no shower set up.
The house where we lived on the top floor and the kitchen was no bigger than a closet. It had a tiny stove and a 3/4 sized fridge and two shelves. Yet, we made a Thanksgiving turkey in it for 7 people!
The apartment that was in the basement and we watched people's feet through the windows all day long. We also had a cat who used to shit in front of the bedroom door if we shut the door and locked her out when we wanted privacy. Whenever one of us would get up, the other would shout, "Shit alert!" so the other wouldn't inadvertently step in it.
Being late with the rent and the people who collected it lived downstairs. Tiptoeing down the steps, trying to get to that car that only started 3/4 of the time, hoping that Reggie or Tina wouldn't call out to us, reminding us that the rent was late.
Those parties. All those parties. And the older couple who lived next door who never complained even though the wife was dying of cancer. I remember being only medically interested in what kind of cancer she had, but not really over thinking it. I felt badly for her, but I had this busy life. And our parties were never really wild...just a bit rowdy. I remember taking a bath on a hot Summer's day and the window at the foot of the tub was wide open. I could hear her crying out in pain and her husband speaking softly to her. I have that memory now and it nearly flattens me with grief. Yet, while I remember feeling sorry for her, it didn't make me cry or anything. I'm crying now just thinking of it.
I remember working and going to school and being so busy every single second. I worked hard, studied hard, and then....on the weekends.....played hard if I didn't have to work. T was in an all female rock band and nearly every weekend, I went to see her play drums. We'd come home, me reeking of smoke and booze...T carrying her drums, banging up the stairs, laughing at 2 in the morning.
We were so young. Life was for living. We sometimes sat around with our friends having VERY SERIOUS discussions about politics and life in general, but now that I look back on it....I was egregiously uneducated. To her credit, Lucy is much more educated about politics than I ever was at her age. But, she grew up in a very political household. I didn't. And she has always been encouraged to think for herself. I wasn't. I got there on my own, but honestly? I think I was in my early 30's before I can really say that I was well educated politically.
I thought that I was well read. I sort of was. But, now....I realize that I wasn't nearly as well read as I thought I was. I was always good at grammar and spelling, but that was one of the values of a Catholic education. Grammar and spelling were taught vigorously and to this day, I am grateful for that. I read some of T's student's papers today and I am shocked at the grammar and spelling mistakes.
When you are young, life is so bright. It stands there in front of you, just waiting for you to reach out and take a bite of it. And I did. I took many, many bites. That is what youth is for.
And it is why I look at Lucy's texts, her marco polos and her cards, and listen to her telephone voice and I am so excited for her. Everything is right there waiting.
She gets scared sometimes, reaches out.
"I broke up with M last night. Am I crazy?"
"I don't think I want to be an engineer anymore. Too much math. I am sick of math! I want to do something to change the world. I want to make a difference!"
"Is it okay if I don't come back for Spring Break? It's just...we're all thinking about going to South Carolina and it sounds so fun!"
"I've sent out over twenty internship applications and it's been a week and no one has responded. What if I end up working at Burger King?"
"Are you feeling better? T says you are really tired. Are you too tired to talk to me? It's okay if you are." (NEVER, sweetheart. NEVER. I am and never will be too tired to talk to you!)
"I miss you."
I miss you, too. But, more than anything in the world...I want you to get out there and LIVE. I want you to travel and see the world. I want you to take a big giant bite out of life. I want you to be my age and look back and smile, as I do.
I want you to take such a big bite that the juice of it runs down your chin.
And then come back and share with me.
Her marco polos, texts, phone calls, are filled with chaotic joy. Busy. So busy.
"I'm trying hard to get to bed before midnight. I mean, I have to get up by 6:30 to make it to work on time."
"Last night, the people upstairs threw us a welcome party. It was so much fun, but I am good and knackered today."
"I kind of like being single again. All that drama just....gone."
"There is this great Italian bakery right down the block from us. We eat bread almost constantly because it is just so good. I will be a plump hen by the end of Summer when I visit you."
I love hearing of her adventures. Her fun in marching in the Pride Parade. I devour her photos of her home. She was so determined to do this all on her own. I offered anything from our house, but she refused everything. I did see her stuffed bear laying across her bed, though. There was a time when if we lost that bear, it would have been a major trauma. We even had one hidden in a closet, just like it...but less worn. Just in case. Luckily, we never had to use it and I have no idea where it is now.
I smile as I look at the photos. Her yellow quilt on her bed. Her desk, neat as always. Her home is older and does not have air conditioning.
It is only when you are young that shit like this doesn't matter.
"I never minded the heat. You know that. And we were never big on turning on the a/c anyway. It had to be HOT before we gave in."
She's right. How I stood that, I have no idea now. And I remember all the apartments and houses that T and I lived in before we started being responsible adults.
The apartment that had no shower, only a clawed tub with no shower set up.
The house where we lived on the top floor and the kitchen was no bigger than a closet. It had a tiny stove and a 3/4 sized fridge and two shelves. Yet, we made a Thanksgiving turkey in it for 7 people!
The apartment that was in the basement and we watched people's feet through the windows all day long. We also had a cat who used to shit in front of the bedroom door if we shut the door and locked her out when we wanted privacy. Whenever one of us would get up, the other would shout, "Shit alert!" so the other wouldn't inadvertently step in it.
Being late with the rent and the people who collected it lived downstairs. Tiptoeing down the steps, trying to get to that car that only started 3/4 of the time, hoping that Reggie or Tina wouldn't call out to us, reminding us that the rent was late.
Those parties. All those parties. And the older couple who lived next door who never complained even though the wife was dying of cancer. I remember being only medically interested in what kind of cancer she had, but not really over thinking it. I felt badly for her, but I had this busy life. And our parties were never really wild...just a bit rowdy. I remember taking a bath on a hot Summer's day and the window at the foot of the tub was wide open. I could hear her crying out in pain and her husband speaking softly to her. I have that memory now and it nearly flattens me with grief. Yet, while I remember feeling sorry for her, it didn't make me cry or anything. I'm crying now just thinking of it.
I remember working and going to school and being so busy every single second. I worked hard, studied hard, and then....on the weekends.....played hard if I didn't have to work. T was in an all female rock band and nearly every weekend, I went to see her play drums. We'd come home, me reeking of smoke and booze...T carrying her drums, banging up the stairs, laughing at 2 in the morning.
We were so young. Life was for living. We sometimes sat around with our friends having VERY SERIOUS discussions about politics and life in general, but now that I look back on it....I was egregiously uneducated. To her credit, Lucy is much more educated about politics than I ever was at her age. But, she grew up in a very political household. I didn't. And she has always been encouraged to think for herself. I wasn't. I got there on my own, but honestly? I think I was in my early 30's before I can really say that I was well educated politically.
I thought that I was well read. I sort of was. But, now....I realize that I wasn't nearly as well read as I thought I was. I was always good at grammar and spelling, but that was one of the values of a Catholic education. Grammar and spelling were taught vigorously and to this day, I am grateful for that. I read some of T's student's papers today and I am shocked at the grammar and spelling mistakes.
When you are young, life is so bright. It stands there in front of you, just waiting for you to reach out and take a bite of it. And I did. I took many, many bites. That is what youth is for.
And it is why I look at Lucy's texts, her marco polos and her cards, and listen to her telephone voice and I am so excited for her. Everything is right there waiting.
She gets scared sometimes, reaches out.
"I broke up with M last night. Am I crazy?"
"I don't think I want to be an engineer anymore. Too much math. I am sick of math! I want to do something to change the world. I want to make a difference!"
"Is it okay if I don't come back for Spring Break? It's just...we're all thinking about going to South Carolina and it sounds so fun!"
"I've sent out over twenty internship applications and it's been a week and no one has responded. What if I end up working at Burger King?"
"Are you feeling better? T says you are really tired. Are you too tired to talk to me? It's okay if you are." (NEVER, sweetheart. NEVER. I am and never will be too tired to talk to you!)
"I miss you."
I miss you, too. But, more than anything in the world...I want you to get out there and LIVE. I want you to travel and see the world. I want you to take a big giant bite out of life. I want you to be my age and look back and smile, as I do.
I want you to take such a big bite that the juice of it runs down your chin.
And then come back and share with me.
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