Sunday, September 19, 2010

Sunday Memories: The Geology Of A New Year


One knew me when I was born and Florence was a young woman, living in Knickabockavillage practicing piano in bare feet. A muse from the moment I could toddle down the street towards her, she let me know there was a world I belonged to beyond the limits of family and neighborhood.

The other knew me when I was still (theoretically) fertile and preparing for marriage and moving. On a night I could barely talk or cry, and in the midst of her own heartbreak, she came over to make sure I was ok and then showed up week after week after week, until the hardest goodbye could be said.

This pile-up of years, toppled constantly by changes - some sudden, some slow - brought the three of us together to break fast and begin a new year together at a place where the borscht hasn't changed in 35 years.

Shona Tova.

5 comments:

mybabyjohn said...

Everything changes and everything stays the same. What leaves is never really gone, what comes can't be expected to stay. The memories are often as real as the original but never as satisfying. That's life, I guess, the same thing over and over again only different. (sorry, it was the borscht)

Melanie said...

Shona Tova Claire!Moving piece as always.

c.o. moed said...

It's ALWAYS the borscht.

And thank you both for your heartfelt comments.

bucko said...

A happy new year indeed...

CG said...

That's lovely, Claire.