Friday, July 6, 2012


Holy Hannah my apartment is HOT. Neither Mom nor I like heat. You would think Mom would be accustomed to hot since she lived in New Delhi for 29 years. However, she has lived more of her life in Minneapolis, so maybe she and I have been winterized due to the Minnesota cold.

I pop open the window and turn the television on, Reba, Frasier, Will & Grace, or the Golden Girls should come on soon. “Okay, Mom, I’m off to work. I’ll ask Daniel if I can leave early so we can have dinner or go out or something. Let's get you out of the apartment,” I say. “No, no,” she says quickly. “Don’t rush for me.” “It’s not I want to hang out with him over you Mom,” I say. “Just do your work and come home. We can order Chinese food,” she says. "Again?" I ask.“What will you eat for lunch?” I ask. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me. I'm not like Daddy. I can have a slice or something.” Slice is what my mother calls untoasted bread.

“Okay,” I say and kiss the top of her head. “Close the window if you get cold, which I doubt will happen.” She nods, “this is apartment is hot. Too hot. It is hotter than the first apartment.” “That’s because the first apartment had window guards on all the windows so I could leave it open at night. Here there’s one window off the fire escape and I don’t want to take a risk of someone getting in.” She nods.

I open the front door and over my shoulder say, “Oh, there is a school across the street. Around lunchtime you will hear the kids.” “Why? Why will I hear them?” my mother asks puzzled. “Because the school doesn’t have a play yard, so at recess the kids play in the street,” I reply. My mother looks horrified. “Mother, don’t worry, they close street down so no cars can go, but yea, it's New York. Sometimes kids play in the street.”

I decide to walk to work, the weather is nice, and I give my brother a call. “How's Mom?” he asks. “Good,” I say and laugh. “I just told her that the school across the street lets the kids play in street. But where else are they going to go? The school is attached to the church and the whole block is built up.” “Sounds lovely,” he mutters. I am sure he envisions his daughter NOT playing in the street.

“What have you and Mom been doing?” he asks. “Not much. I'm hoping we go out for dinner tonight. She hasn’t left the apartment since she came,” I reply. “WHAT?!” he demands. “You have just let her sit there for two days?” “Dude, I’m in a four floor walk-up, she was panting and wheezing the first day. The stairs damn near killed her. It’s not like I won’t let her leave, she doesn’t want to. Plus it’s New York, everything can be delivered.”

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