1. Here it is: my house in the ever snowing winter of all winters in Massachusetts. For three weeks we have had one storm after another. The snow is as high as it looks. In Boston there is another 18 inches or so more than this. We're all sick of it but Bostonians are a gutsy lot. I'm proud to be from here.
2. The realtor called today with news. "A woman wants to rent your apartment. She gave me a deposit."
"What is she like?"
Hesitation: "She's from India."
"I don't think it's a problem because she says she doesn't use curry when she cooks so it won't permeate the rugs and walls."
"I don't care about that. Is she nice?"
"Did you check her employment and finances?"
"Yes, she's employed and pays her bills on time every month."
"Okay then. That's great."
"Some people don't want to rent to people from India because of the curry."
"Not a problem."
3. The hospice center called today with a message. "We want you to know we're here if you need help in grieving." I don't need help. The thought I keep having is that I was loyal and present for my Mother for all the years she needed me. So this is what the absence of regret feels like, and it is a feeling as valuable as love.
4. This book I am writing: here is mother-of-four Christine talking about her sister Louise and their childhood.
Anyway, when Louise returned from the convent, things got easier for me again although my freewheeling privacy came to a halt. She kept track of my homework and curfews and had the audacity to read my diary about Anthony and my breasts.
“Absolutely NOT!” she hollered downstairs, ordering me to leave the breakfast table and appear before her in my no longer private bedroom.
“Listen to me, Pip. Not now at thirteen, not later at sixteen. Your body is a vessel of God. You have to keep it chaste until you get married.”
“What does ‘chaste’ mean, Louise?”
“It means nobody touches your privates.”
“What about kissing? Because Anthony kissed me with his tongue and I liked it. Are you sure you know about this, Louise? Anthony told me if I let him touch my boobs I will feel it down here and it will be great.” I pointed.
“NO, NO, NO” Louise screamed. “You’ll go to hell.”
The hell part was enough for me. I admit I kissed and humped my way through my teenage years but no boy got under my clothes until my first husband Norman and he must have been no Anthony, because even when I managed to stay awake, it was all pretty iffy.
5. So what else is new? Nothing but more snow. :^)