in a Cambridge state of mind

I was reading a talk by the brilliant Kate Holbrook, and she said, "I would like to consider now the power of the moment. [A] key aspect of the mortal condition is temporality. I grieve the condition of our temporality as I see my precious babies change and know that regardless of good things to come, the magical ways we have been together in the past have gone and will not recur. [My daughter] will never again thrill with the power of pronouncing her first word. Shoe."

I think what really gets me down is this idea. I miss Cambridge because of the friends and family, of course. But the thing that makes me sob is the loss of our surroundings that housed all our great experiences -- our apartment building was where Ethan started to speak conversationally and the penthouse lounge, where we had so many social activities, large and small -- backlit by the amazing view, and the tables that served dozens of different cultures' cuisines, and couches where our very first Christmas there, Lacey and Holly and I made leaf bowls for Christmas gifts until 3am. Penthouse playroom is where Cristie and I and Cristie's committee met to renovate the entire thing, Cort and I painted the walls over Valentine's weekend -- sky blue with big billowy clouds, the kids had numerous playdates there and Ethan fell on the slide when he was two, causing him to get 18 stitches in his forehead, and whenever we saw the slide, he could tell a new friend the story. In the elevator, when he was about 2 1/2, there were two Asian neighbors speaking in their native tongue, and Ethan asked Cort what they were saying. Cort said, "I don't know, they're speaking in a different language." And Ethan nodded and said, "Oh. Spanish or Pork and Cheese?" (Portuguese) So often while riding in that elevator, I smiled at the thought of that story. Now I rarely think of it, only when I'm trying to remember, which takes effort. I loved that we brought two babies home from the hospital in that apartment, and that we had a wall that measured their inches. Every inch of that apartment was stuffed with our stuff and every memory, every laugh, every cry, everything in between. And though the condition of temporality was still inflicted on us, we had a scrapbook all around us in that apartment and the roads and streets and trees of Cambridge. I loved the parks we frequented and the kids grew confidence and strength on the equipment while I had one of several panic attacks at their attempts, the favorite cheap haunts where Cort and I had great dates, I even miss Market Basket, City Hall, the bank and even the RMV (ok, ok, not the RMV). I loved driving in that crazy city, and the time when we came home from a day of errands and when we arrived home, Ethan (2) told Cort that I use "Mommy words" while I drive (and incidentally still did all the way up until we moved). I don't need to use any of those words here -- the drivers here are so nice. I loved when we would drive past Mount Auburn hospital, Elliot would still wave, "Hi baby Claire!" even though his sister was sitting right next to him in the car and was well after a year past birth. I miss seeing Pam in Eastgate, because just seeing her reminds me that she was the first non-family person to hold Elliot when he was born, and I LOVE that she raced over after Claire was born so she could get credit to be the first to see her, too. I miss Cristie painfully, as a sister to me and a substitute mother to my kids -- the one person that I knew without a doubt could be patient with me and my kids, even though we were all being impossible to deal with at the time(s), and my kids miss her boys as brothers -- and we miss them as sons (we miss Steven, too!). I miss Carla and Claudia -- my work buddies, that made making money a bonus to getting to visit with great friends. And oh my goodness, I miss our ward family, the ones who saw us as individual friends and as a good family and these kids as babies and loved to watch them grow and distract them at church. I miss activities, and after church visiting, and dinners at houses, and dinners at parks, and bookgroup anywhere -- but I often think of Elizabeth's with her fabulous flair for great food and great conversation. And of course we miss Rhett and Patty, who loved us and took care of us unconditionally and would let us veg at their house whenever life seemed too chaotic, and would feed us Thai food when we were at our most down and out (or when I experimented eating whatever spicy food would get me into labor the quickest). My kids constantly talk about how much they miss their friends and cousins, and school and our apartment -- all of it -- and mostly I hear, "I miss home." That's the long and short of it -- in Elliot's immortal words, "Why did anyone invent moving??"

Now I don't mean to leave this post on a sad note -- I know I'm ranting, I'm cyper sobbing. The truth is, people here are nice -- it is just the idea of starting over and building lifetime friendships is hard. But we will. The ward family doesn't feel like it will be big enough for big personalities like mine, but it will. It just takes time. And time feels fleeting when I think of temporality. I suffered this condition even when we were still in Cambridge -- it affects all of us. I really think this is one of the reasons why we had more than one child -- deluding ourselves into thinking that we'll get to experience those amazing moments again. It's a delusion because even if the milestones are the same, each experience is heartbreaking and magical and one of a kind and it's over in a flicker (as Laurel said, and I will never forget). Although I'm basking in self pity these days, if I didn't have every member of my family, I would be lost without a trace. So, for the three of you that read this blog, don't worry about me!! I'm fine, just venting. I love you all, and miss you all so much!