Bobby is 6

My first born is six. This age is significant for me because it’s the first of my real, detailed memories, so I can only guess that his memories have now begun, too. I think about how my tumultuous childhood was just starting around this age - my newly divorced mother repeatedly moving us from town to town, causing me to attend five different schools before fifth grade; my father vanishing to Brazil and only reappearing once when I was eight. I look at Bobby’s life - same comfortable home, a little brother, a mother with him all the time, even a benign father figure now a part of the picture - and can’t help but pat myself on the back a bit. At least up until now, Bobby has had a good, secure, happy life. Now to just keep that up for twelve more years!

Bobby at six is smart, funny, emotional, sweet and sarcastic. I posited to my mom’s group: “are all six-year-olds smart alecks?” and the answer was a resounding YES. So apparently a certain amount of snark is par for the course at this age. Not a huge fan, but I’m oddly gratified that at least he’s developmentally on track! 

After a whirlwind visit, my sister left for NY today. It will be the last time she visits from New York. This week she and her husband put their South Bronx apartment on the market and leave the northeast forever for sunnier climes in Florida. Which leaves me with one living relative left in Massachusetts, my cousin. It’s odd to think that hundreds of years of our gene pool in and around the tri-state area comes to an end now, with everyone either dying off or leaving for warmer temperatures in the south or west. Other than the odd band gig, I wonder if I’ll ever have cause to visit New York again. 

The boys’ crazy bounce house emporium birthday party went well - although as usual tons of people never read the invitation, rsvp’d no at the last minute, or canceled the morning of, it was still packed between my dance friends (who mostly average 2-4 kids), Bobby’s school friends (all boys and two brave girls), and a lone Theo preschool friend. I’m torn about the combined birthday party idea going forward. What may be the best plan as of next year is to have Bobby do an activity with a few select friends and then do a big party for both kids combining everyone. I would just hate to have one kid get screwed because everyone went to one party and not the other. But Bobby is sounding like he wants to do his own thing. I will have to think on it.

With my sister and a close friend paying off their homes, closing up their businesses and planning for the final (or penultimate) act of their lives, it makes me think about these things, too. I’ve already had this in mind, as I’ve written here. In a bit more than a decade, these children will be on their own. My sister’s husband is already 65; my boyfriend is 50 and was a lifetime heavy smoker. We hope they live forever, but odds are we will find ourselves single again at some point in the next 20 years. What then? My sister already plans to move here to California; I still dream of the plot of land with a few tiny homes containing my favorite people, she of course being number one on the list.

For years in the 80s my sister and I lived together in tiny studio apartments in the east village. Is it possible our lives will end as they began, just the two of us sharing a space (of sorts)? I have to admit, I find the symmetry of that highly appealing.