Turning 72

Compared to the seventieth birthday party shared with twin Nancy and fifty women, two years ago in Corrales, the group of ten in my apartment was subdued. My brother Jerry came from Omaha with his girlfriend Lorrie—first time he’s visited me in forty years. Lisa and I stopped for the night on treks across the great prairies—in 2006 on my move to NM and in 2008 on my way from NM to my fiftieth Edgewood High School reunion.  We live in separate worlds but still speak the memories or our shared childhood. We both recalled a photo taken when he was five and I was twelve.  The lighting captures facial bones and coloring, leaving no doubt of our genetic similarity.

Yvonne, Joan, and Rachel came with scrumptious dips and salads.  Little Lisa, who calls me her second mom because she lived with us three years during their high school, came to help Big Lisa, her best friend, and sat at my feet.  Cheyenne made a card about what she loves about Gram. 

Fortunately I won’t be known as the woman who burned Auvers Village to the ground on her way out of town.   But there was a moment of panic when the beautiful hot air (I Love You) heart balloon that Rachel, Lorrie, and Cheyenne launched shot its flames up and out over the dark pond and then caught a cross wind and flew back into a tree not far from a building.  With no kite string to tether it down, the launchers jumped around waving their hands and shouting at it to come down as if it were a wayward cat.  Then the wind shifted, the fire sputtered out, and the balloon careened like a large red leaf down to the water.  Thanks, Rachel, for that splash of love and red siren excitement. 

The gathering wound down slowly.  When only Lisa and Cheyenne remained, I flopped on my bed wiped out, and they piled on the bed with me.

Saturday night Charles joined the group for dinner.  “Have you seen the mermaid carved in sterling silver on my cane?” Charles asked handing me the graceful piece of Victorian erotica.

“What do you need a cane for?” asked Jerry.

“I’m an old man,” asserted Charles.

“But why do you need it?” continued Jerry.

“I’m an old man.  I deserve to have a cane.” I was amused.  They spoke on parallel tracks.  Jerry searched for physical maladies. Charles was displaying an objet d’art.  He always fancied himself a Victorian gentleman.

On Sunday Lisa and Cheyenne helped sort clothes.  Later Rachel, a warm friend for twenty-five years, and her new wife Nicki dropped by for a glass of wine and sweet goodbyes.

On Monday (today) Jerry came at 10:30 for the best visit we’ve had in forty years.  He told me about his success in selling security systems.  Charles and Lisa brought us lunch.  I gave Jerry a quick tour of Winter Park.  They’ve all just left after we dined on take-out Chinese.  Charles kept saying what an amazing convergence of relatives we were after all these years. It did seem a marvel to have my only sibling and my only ex-husband sitting side by side.

I don’t know how quickly I’ll be reconnected to the internet in Durham, so don’t be surprised if I don’t answer emails 2/8-12. Next entry will come from NC.