Heaven

I had agreed to go to Jersey to be with my niece, Tori Quinn, and to help my sister in law, Melissa, and brother, James, prepare to move to their new home in a week. I was ready to pack up box after box and release my frustrations and sadness over Oscar. I left on the New Jersey Transit empty. Returning tonight, I am full.

When I got there we all were on edge, Melissa just getting over being sick and James now on his way. Then I saw Tori, sitting in the school van being delivered home on her last day of first grade. I tapped on the glass where she sat and she looked at me quizzically and then I said her name and she blushed and smiled. It dawned on her. Her Aunt Sheela was there as Mom and Dad had said she would be.

And somewhere inbetween boxing toys galore, deconstructing the hall closet and laughing with Tori as she played her interactive dvd's and spoke her delightful talk, I found myself starting to breathe again.

James and I drove the boxes to the new house in Lincroft near Red Bank. New Jersey calms the beast in me for its green lawns and rolling hills, quaint architecture, and small town feel. We turned down the street to his future home. I knew he was home. In this country essence, a place between rich and right, he was home.

We went up to the sweetest corner house, one that if I was cruising by would have looked at, imagined myself decorating before turning the corner to where I was really going.

We pulled up in the driveway. There's three bedrooms, a sun deck, basement, and fireplace. The color of the cabinet wood in the kitchen is like our family home, up for sale now. The bathroom has gray tile and it begs for the removal of sadness, only asks that you rest.

James and I each had a Brooklyn Lager Ale with the 55 label, the year I was born. This house was made in '56, the one they almost bought (but this one is superior) was made in '55. For some reason, everything last night was 55. About coming home.

This evening James and I drove to the train station. in the distrance measured in my arrival and now in my departure, good things happened. Communication sweetened between Melissa and me. James and I laughed, and talked of things to come; what was now. And I'd hung with Tori so long that she was ready for the normalcy of her life with Mom and Dad.

I got into Penn Station, and went upstairs to walk to 6th and catch the F. I soon found myself in the swirl of Herald Square. I remembered riding to the Jersey station earlier with James and seeing the lushness I was preparing to leave, returning to the bluntness of NYC. And then it hit me: If I'm going to wander and blindly stay in the moment, I should stay in the thick of an energy that keeps me alive. And that seems to be New York.

I walked toward the F, thankful to be in motion. My calling was that weekend. One weariness giving salve to the other. I still felt the pain of losing Oscar, but the whole of life had been shown to me. And I left feeling love.