little boy in a big town
May. 17th, 2008 12:54 amI am in Brooklyn. I am safely ensconced chez
crepuscular with my great big six-year-old boy and getting ready for my twentieth high school reunion tomorrow. Driving in to the city always provokes little nervous ripples of familiarity. When I passed the exit for Cadman Plaza West on the BQE I almost gasped -- so much time has passed and yet so little.
Tomorrow I will take Q to see the house where I grew up. He and I will ride on the subway and I will show him the Lebanese markets on Atlantic Avenue, if they're still there. If they're still there I will show him how he can scoop the dates out of the bins himself and the baskets of nuts and seeds. We will walk to the school where I spent eight years of my childhood and I will introduce him to the grown-up kids I used to know. And I will try, oh I will try to be as grown up as he is.
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Tomorrow I will take Q to see the house where I grew up. He and I will ride on the subway and I will show him the Lebanese markets on Atlantic Avenue, if they're still there. If they're still there I will show him how he can scoop the dates out of the bins himself and the baskets of nuts and seeds. We will walk to the school where I spent eight years of my childhood and I will introduce him to the grown-up kids I used to know. And I will try, oh I will try to be as grown up as he is.