Ed. Note: This is an essay from the archives that I initially published in October 2018 and am re-publishing today in modestly edited format because its sentiments continue to echo in me, five years later, and having moved back to my hometown in the intervening years. My parents are now preparing to move from the house mentioned below and I find myself enthusiastic for them but sentimental, mildly melancholy about the impermanences of life. Editing this essay, I thought to myself: but home is people more than place. And so I know I can continue to lean on their generous refrain: you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.
*****
I’m writing this from the attic bedroom of my parents’ home, on a pillow-top bed, my hair dripping wet from the shower, a towel with my maiden monogram embroidered on it around my shoulders. It’s 9:38 p.m. and all I can think about is the sharp sing-song of the crickets outside the window, a sound so familiar yet foreign to me now as a Manhattanite, their chirp a hypnosis from childhood. I note the click-click of my parents’ bedroom door closing, the shuffle of their feet on the wood floor as they retire for the evening. There are occasional creaks in the roof that terrify me even now — at thirty four — on the rare occasion I spend the night alone here, but with my parents downstairs, I embrace them as part of the settled-in snug of this house.
My parents moved here when I was out of college. I had a romantic attachment to my childhood home, a grand stone-faced one on the top of a hill that I always think of in black-and-white, as if it were permanently stuck in a film noir, but this one is better in many ways: more livable, more modern, with a kind graciousness to its dimensions. An elevator to accommodate aging parents, an oversized kitchen befitting of our sprawling family, large bedrooms for cousins to share. And — though I did not grow up here, did not learn to ride a two-wheeler here, did not build pillow forts here, did not place my first lost tooth under my pillow here, did not careen down the steps on Christmas morning here, did not cry into my pillow over fourteen-year-old crushes here, did not whisper stories I’d filched from books I’d read and pawned off as my own into the dark night to my sisters here — here, too, I feel like a child.
In New York, as Mr. Magpie put it recently, “we adult hard.” We attend pre-school open houses. We make doctor’s appointments. We tip people. We have “Handyman Richie” saved in our cell phones. We coordinate on schedules — “can you get a sitter for the seventh?” “what’s going on the 23rd?” We rant about the COI protocols in our building. We weigh the pros and cons of renewing our Costco membership. I realized as I sat down at my desk the other day, rolling its drawer towards my lap to remove my day planner, its pages thick with invitations, receipts, coupons, sticky notes — that I have become my mother. The scroll-y thwirl of the drawer opening, her hand poised above the agenda page with a pen, her ear cradling a phone. “Mhm, how about Thursday the 8th?” she would say, thumbing through her pages, also thick with invitations, receipts, coupons, and sticky notes. I am an extension of her gesture.
Here, now, my mother has stocked the pantry with my favorite Cheez-its and the best flavors of LaCroix are never in short supply, without my ever having to take mental note. Dinner is around the long polished wood table, on china, in their formal dining room, after grace has been said. I have to start saying grace with mini, I think to myself. Towels are fluffy, white, and folded in tidy rows in the linen closet — a far cry from the unceremonious stack in a linen bin on top of our drying machine. The bathroom is always stocked with shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, qtips, soap, fresh towels, “and an extra set, too, in the cabinet, just in case.” My father often inquires about the temperature of my bedroom: “a few degrees cooler? warmer?” He leaves clippings and articles on the steps with my initials on them in blotchy permanent marker. I will often return to the kitchen to find my belongings in a neat pile.
Aren’t we lucky to be children?
On the surface of it, a fatuous thought: yes, Jen, it’s the circle of life. But I mean it in the sense that every now and then I come home and realize, “Oh, no no. I’m not a real adult yet.” And I feel myself relax into the indulgences and generosities of my parents, my New York life a kind of distant performance. This visit in particular: I had committed to taking the 1 train to Penn Station to catch the 10 a.m. Acela to Union Station, and then jumping onto the redline up to the Tenley stop, all on my own, with my 18-month-old at my side. Nothing indomitable, but — I’ll admit — tricky and exhausting when there were two elevators out of order on my New York subway excursion alone, and mini scarcely tolerated a few minutes on my lap on the train. My father texted me early the morning I left: “Will meet you at the gate at Union. ETA?” I put him off: “No, no. I’ll just metro.” (You can do this!) He insisted; I accepted. And when I wheeled mini out the sliding glass doors into the station, his was the first face I saw. I don’t know that he noticed the slight wobble in my chin when I hugged him. The uncoiling of something, the release, when he took my bags from my arms, wordlessly paused our little caravan at the pay-station to pay the parking ticket, led me to his car, contemplated the best route home. It was a shift in gears. I wallowed in the breakers of a relief I did not know I wanted or needed.
I felt in that moment wildly privileged by love. What an outrageous largesse, to have someone carry the weight of the day’s logistics for you, to fold down your bed covers, to anticipate your needs. We often talk about parenthood as a gift, but coming home is a reminder that my daughterhood has been an embarrassment of riches, and its principle bestowal the alleluiah chorus: you are loved, you are loved, you are loved.
Post-Scripts.
+An aubade to parenting. (A very, very old blog post written while I was pregnant with my daughter close to seven years ago.)
+Another love letter to my parents.
Shopping Break.
+If you can believe it, I’m beginning to think about fall, and this denim blazer and these court green Adidas sneaks are the top of my wishlist.
+Also beginning to think about denim. Loving the fit of these Slvrlakes and these Mothers (on sale as a part of the Nordstrom sale, which launched today!). My full guide to the sale here.
+We love (!) our Technivorm Moccamaster. I’ve written a bunch about it, but it is truly a joy. Sort of a blend of drip coffee and pourover? I would love to one day have an espresso-maker, even one of those inexpensive stovetop Moka things because I absolutely love lattes, but don’t enjoy them enough to legitimize the purchase of one of the expensive fancy ones. Thoughts?
+A really good transitional cardigan.
+Has anyone tried Anthro’s Colette pants? I know they’re a bestseller season after season. Love the shape!
+These hair vitamins keep selling out, but people are raving about them. You don’t swallow — you squeeze the capsules onto your hair.
+Love this mini writing desk. Would be great for an NY apartment, child’s room, etc. Seriously eyeing for my son. He won’t need a desk for awhile yet but it’s SO cute.
+In last week’s Ask Magpie, a reader asked about back-to-school outfits for pre-schoolers. TBBC JUST launched their school collection, which was my go-to for my daughter before she wore a uniform. I love a dress like this for the occasion with a big ol’ Wee Ones bow and fresh pair of Cientas.
+A super-pretty cocktail dress for summer.
+Ordered this t-shirt dress to try. Would look perfect with the Adidas sneaks IMO.
+Love this striped blouse.
+Wireless children’s headphones! Why have I not thought of these in the past?
+More seriously considering getting in on the denim maxi skirt trend. I think I’ll go with Gap on this one. Love that it comes in petite lengths!
Hi,
The Collette pant is wonderful! I have a couple of pairs and they are very flattering and oh so comfortable. You will not be disappointed. I am 5’6″ and 128 and wear the 28. They are my favorite pant for sure.
Marsha
Ooo thank you!
Oh gosh, this post is so beautiful and makes my heart both flutter (for myself, and my parents, and the way they similarly take care of me) and wrench (for one of my closest friends, whose mother is dying). It’s so wonderful how aware you are of the privilege of having parents that are able to support you and take care of you, even in adulthood. It’s true, what Cynthia said — life does happen too quickly, and we should all be so lucky to recognize the support and love that we have in our families.
On a lighter note, the mention of crickets brought me right back to the late summers & early autumns of my childhood in New Jersey — it was the soundtrack to my evenings at my childhood home as well, and when we’d return from Cape Cod in late August, they always let me know that a return to school was right around the corner!
I also wanted to mention (for Jennifer’s sake, if she’s reading) that Marine Layer has some really cute pieces. I find their styles to be classic in a laid-back, California way. I have 2 t-shirts from ML and both of them have impressed me with their quality. I also bought my mom a cotton cardigan sweater from ML and she loves it!
Love all of this. Glad you relate — we need to cherish our parents while they are still around! Thanks also for the tip on Marine Layer!! xoxo
I spent the better part of the last two weeks deep in your archives — I adore your writing.
I just returned to DC from a week at home. A house that similarly, my parents moved to when I was in college but but feels just as home as the house I grew up in.
There’s something about my mother fussing over me and my father pretending to be begrudged at my requests for him to refill my drink that feels like the most luxurious break from the mental gymnastics of adulthood. And of course it is luxurious for parents too, to have their grown up children, who have their own busy and full lives, choose to come spend their time with them.
Hi Elizabeth! Thank you so much for the compliment, and for digging back through the archives 🙂 You’re right. I kept thanking my parents for the treat of their doting on myself and my daughter, and they routinely said the same thing: “The pleasure is ours.” It’s so fortunate that both sides feel grateful for these visits 🙂 Hope you enjoyed your time at home, too. xo
We lived in Palisades for four years, and on our first night in our home there the crickets and frogs kept me up. I love this, especially on a day I made a to do list that included: send insurance forms, and RSVP to the next two preschool birthdays.
So glad it reached you on the right day 🙂 How long did it take to readjust to the sounds of nature?! Now I’m pretty sure the inverse would be true — hearing city sounds might keep you up. xo
This is so beautifully written. You have a real talent!
xx
Thank you, Carly! xoxo
This post was beautiful and made me cry.
I’m 25 and have been married for 3 years…spent 2 of them living on the opposite coast from my parents. 7 months ago I was diagnosed with cancer and needed to start treatment as soon as possible in the major city my parents live close to. Without a discussion they swept my husband and I up, moved us into their spare rooms and have cooked for us and attended treatment with me and put their lives on hold to help us get through this nightmare. Lucky to be children, indeed.
Oh, Elizabeth – I’m so, so sorry to hear this and also so happy to hear this in the sense that you have found such loving care and comfort from your parents. I will be thinking of you and sending you lots of good vibes. Have been thinking of you all morning. xoxo
Circling back because I somehow ended up here from this morning’s post. I reread your essay because I remembered loving it so much on the first go, and was surprised to find this comment I had forgotten writing down below.
Three years on: my hair has grown back, my oncologist has given me the thumbs up and many of the details of that time are lost in a swirl of treatment and trauma and small moments in between. We have moved on in many ways, but I’ll never forget how lucky we are to be children.
Love to you and yours!
I am SO glad to hear this!!! Wow!! Thanks for circling back to share 🙂
xx
Circling back on my circle back, because 5 years later this essay remains my favorite of yours! I was delighted to see it in my feed. I’m happy and healthy 5 years later, but this piece still moves me and brings me back to that time. Thank you for sharing again!
Oh I love this so much :). Thank you for letting me know!
Another lovely post! I sympathize with you re: the babe who wouldn’t sit in your lap for the train ride – neither did mine, though we luckily had an empty seat next to us so she could climb around there.
Love that stationery! I need to create some new cards for myself and to get cracking on our holiday cards (I know it’s early, but if I don’t start the process now it’ll never get done – I’m thinking watercolor palm trees with some Christmas lights this year??)
Btw, have you heard of the brand Marine Layer? It keeps popping up in my Facebook feed (and I just saw a storefront at our local mall) – I’m curious, but don’t know anyone who’s bought clothes from them! The items look ultra comfy (but not dowdy) and up my alley – may have to bite the bullet and pick some items up to give them a whirl.
Hi! I have seen Marine Layer from afar (in Chicago, lived close to one of their stores in Lincoln Park) and it does look like high-quality basics, maybe with a bit of a hipster vibe? I never walked in, though! I’ll need a full report if you do indulge 🙂
xoxo
Love this! So well written! We are always loved children in our parents eyes and you said/explained it so well. You too will always think of mini as your baby/daughter, even when she’s 34! Relish this special time with your parents. Life happens too quickly.
On another note, I was speaking to some mothers at exercise class last week and Mom #1 was sharing how her son went to A++ high school here and was pro golf potential and now is in college and blah, blah, blah! Mom #2 piled on stating her son went to A- high school BUT he is now about to graduate with honors from the honors program in college, blah, blah, blah! It made me think I was back in grade school waiting to meet admissions staff and the mother’s are all “chatting” in the waiting room. It made me think of you having to deal with this in pre-k, and wanting you to know that I guess it never ends!!! It’s too much!
Why can’t ALL these kids be wonderful? They ARE! The competition is intense, and so destructive.
OY you are so right. I’m actually watching “Odd Mom Out” at the urgent request of several friends of mine who do not live in New York and know I am thinking about applying, and it REALLY underscores the inane competitiveness point…
And glad the post hit home for you. I was moved at what you said: “Relish this special time with your parents. Life happens too quickly.” You make me realize that I don’t need to wait for my husband to travel abroad to make a trip down there…
xoxo
Hi, the link for at home facial on Sephora site takes you to French site, and not an at home facial, though my French is rusty! Not sure if that was intended?
Hi Jane! Sorry the link wasn’t working for you — it’s a link to a Sephora page for TLC’s Sukari Babyfacial. Let me know if this takes you to the right place instead:
http://bit.ly/2OEWyfs
(If not, google it!)
xoxo
Honorable mention to the pantry at Nurmily, which we would raid after whatever fancy theme party we’d thrown for ourselves during college summers. Why am I eating Pop-tarts at 2am? Why are there no chips going into my mouth?!
Hahahahaha!!! So true. An endless supply of junk food (including gushers — who likes gushers?) Such good memories ❤️❤️❤️
Beautifully written. But, check your references: film noir – 1920s?
Thank you! You are so right – yikes! Will update this post and make a note citing your correction. Thanks for catching that! Xo