The past four days have been less than eventful but adventurous nonetheless. Dennis and I continue to move into our apartment in Sunnyside, never entering the building empty-handed. We carry with us any number of things: new pillows, green curtains, dog eared books and vinyl records. Dennis spent the evening hooking up his record player to some great speakers, and our apartment was flooded with good music, the kind of sound only vinyl creates. Our two friends VOLUNTEERED to help us move in, asking in return only that we bring them down with us in the car. So on Saturday we loaded up our two cars for several hours in Connecticut, picked up our friends on the way to Queens, and within a half-hour had completely unloaded our cars. Then commenced the building of Ikea furniture, for we had not a single chair to our name. Our friends jumped right in and began helping us assemble our table, chairs, lamp, and bookshelf and before we knew it we began to have a living room. Friends are so good. To thank them, we took them out to a fabulous—-and I do mean FABULOUS—-dinner at a tiny place called Quaint right nearby. This place was PROBABLY THE BEST MEAL I HAVE HAD IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN THE PAST ELEVEN YEARS. If you are ever in Queens, find this restaurant for either brunch or dinner and you will have yourself a very happy mouth.
Our Fourth was spectactular. SPECTACULAR. We found ourselves surrounded by friends, standing on Milford Beach underneath fireworks. Oh, they were just beautiful. And because we were on the beach, I could see up and down the coast all of the fireworks displays in blues and reds and greens, silent explosions miles away. I screamed and shouted and threw my hands up in the air like a little kid. The red fireworks made my friends’ faces light up soft and bright and I looked around and thought how happy I was. And how beautifully American the whole evening had been. It was a 4th like none other for me, absolutely alive with celebration and contentment.
Now I am in Vermont, back with my family. It was a rough homecoming. My mom’s hair is beginning to fall out and I am finding it all over the place. Where once this was a thing to joke about, now it’s something kind of sad to see. I guess I could remain sad at seeing this, but when I look at my mom and see all that she’s doing and find myself just amazed. My mom is so strong and so it’s hard for me to even believe that she’s sick at all. I hope to be writing more this week.