Spring? And the Purim Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Ruth and Gabe. Thai 202. Sticky Rice custard. Long talks with Ruth. Gabe’s chair in the Snow. 14 degrees. Mark’s colleague Dale recovering. The Monsoons. Alan. Ruth going to mussar with me tomorrow. Memories of Jon. Of Kate, of blessed memory.
One brief shining: The young Thai man brought out a platter with a bowl of sticky Rice on one end, a smaller metal bowl of sweetened thick milk, and a portion of green, slightly salty custard at the other; Ruth and I ate it, slowly, as it deserved.
Gabe shoveled a path for me from the back door to the garage. Sweet of him. He also carried in some groceries yesterday afternoon. Ruth and I have had several long conversations, something I’d missed with her. She’s doing so well though vibrating about college admissions.
She applied to CU-Boulder and got into their studio arts program. She also applied to the Rhode Island School of Design. A no there. Tomorrow she hears from NYU. After that, she’ll make her decision. Financial aid matters, too. I hope she chooses Boulder so I can see her while she’s in school.
The last semester of her senior year. Wow. And on April 4th. 18! The changes come fast and hard at this age. Big decisions, all on her. Where to go to school. Major. How to live life away from home, without the structure of public education. Transitioning to young adulthood. Exciting. And, terrifying.
Gabe’s got a couple of years before he hits this point. Not sure how he’ll handle it. He’s less focused, less ambitious than Ruth. A different person for sure. We’ll see.
Of course they’re both making these changes without Jon, without their Dad. That impacts them in ways not easy to discern. I imagine part of Ruth’s decision to major in studio arts reflects her desire to please him. Again, how his absence affects Gabe is less obvious. May be a while until we know.
We plan a trip to Mac Nation today, an Indian Hills restaurant that has many different variations on the American college student’s favorite food. One of mine still.
Tomorrow Ruth will attend mussar with me. My conversion to Judaism has reinforced an already strong Jewish identity for her. She’s looking forward to my bar mitzvah. It’s on her calendar.
All of this underscores the reason Kate and I moved to Colorado over nine years ago. We wanted to be part of their growing up. And we have been, still are. They know that two adults of my generation love and care about them. Kate’s death has done nothing to affect that.
Just a moment: The bridge collapse. The Francis Scott Key bridge. Brought back memories of the day the I-35W bridge over the Mississippi collapsed in the Twin Cities. Shocking has too faint a meaning for either one.
The good news in Maryland is that there was just enough warning to prevent traffic from falling into the waters of the Patapsco River.