Looooong Time

Last month parents visited Boston for a speaking engagement my father was spearheading. Between brief transcontinental phone conversations, we caught up on each other’s lives and exchanged I-love-you as if these words were a substitute for ‘umm’.

And don’t forget to bring me back something, I told my dad. I like gifts. It doesn’t matter if it’s a cheesy snow-globe, a silk-screened shirt, or a rock. It makes me happy to know someone thought of me while away on a trip. And even if I had to remind my father to think of me, it wouldn’t matter because I’d have a trinket or keychain to remind me of his love.

I have random trip-gifts that I just can’t get rid of. Like, a Pieta from Italy, a Big Ben shot glass, a puka shell necklace from Kauai, a stone from Israel’s Masada…the list goes on. They all mean something to me and to part with them would be like throwing away a photograph--and throwing away a photograph is sacrilegious in my book.

When my parents recently returned from Boston, and my mother handed over a bright yellow New England shopping bag, I was thrilled. In it was Boston emblazed pens and a t-shirt for JD, the Harvard University sweatshirt I always wanted, and…this:








I almost couldn’t believe it. Why did my mother have the conviction to purchase me a “Future Harvard Graduate” baby onesie?!? I nervously chuckled as I pulled the pink garment from the bag. Mom, I asked, are you trying to tell me something? She laughed and said not to take it seriously, but, you know, she wasn’t sure if she’d be back to visit Boston before she had a grandchild.

WHAT?!? I honestly love my mother. She’s wonderful. As in wonderfully crazy, wonderfully belligerent, and wonderfully out-of-her-mind ☺

Mom, I know you read this blog, so please don’t be hurt when I tell you you’re your wish for grandkids is the equivalent to my wish to win the lottery, my wish to host The View with Barbara Walters, and my wish to be as good a photographer as David Jay. These wishes may happen…but not for a looooong time! ☺