jawnbc | progeny

It's a surprisingly cool morning; so cool I have to turn the air con off and pull the duvet on to warm my somnolent body. But I can't snooze any longer, and stumble my way to the 'loo for my ablutions.

I hoped to make a quick--and clean--exit, but the voices on the other side of the downstairs door tell me the clan stirs. So I enter, exchange hugs and kisses (Auntie and cousine and our family's cleaner, whom we all love and respect), handshakes (cousin-in-law) and quizzical looks (second cousins). Nany is awake in the living room and I give her a big hug and kiss. When we see each other after a long while there is always a wonderful moment of recognition, of excitment, of wow. It's you! You're here!

Still I've things to get done, so I make my seeyalaters. A 25 minute wait for the bus doesn't help things either. On the bus, others who have been waiting even longer express their rancour through kvetching a particular sort of whinge that uses volume to make it abundantly clear to everyone within earshot--and with a piercing, shrill voice, this lady's earshot is the whole bus--she's unhappy. As we cross the bridge into Brooklyn I'm refinding my inner New Yorker...after chanting shut the fuck up, I've now tuned her out.

All I know is that the store I want is "a couple of stops" past Kings Plaza. In this case "two" means three (not bad). After being ignored for 5 minutes in an empty store I approach an employee, arrange my purchase, and start the walk back to Kings Plaza. My search for something else isn't successful. I board the bus back to Rockaway nonetheless pleased for having got what I really needed: my goddaughter's graduation present. Like many journeys back home, the ride seems faster.

I stop on 129th for two regulars and a diet coke, then it's home to wrap and await Ma and Da's return. They've just bought a house out of state, which will eventually (after Nanny dies) become home. Nanny turned 99 last week, and while she's showing more and more age, she's still somewhat mobile, still has most of her marbles, and still lives (thanks to Da and Auntie) in her own home. I should be so lucky...

I grab most of the bags while Da navigates Ma towards the mini-lift. Once she's upstairs she gives herself a treatment and gets comfy. Both of them are more animated, excited and (dare I say) hopeful than I've seen in years. They show me photos of the house, chattering about shopping, dining out (2 dinners out in a row, a first for them in probably 5 years. Or more), renovations...all wonderful to hear. Future talk. We've not had much future talk as of late. I'll take it.

Da's about to run errands for Ma and Auntie, but I insist he let me do both. Despite living on a near flat peninsula, the relos always are shocked at my willingness to walk 10 blocks, even on a gorgeous sunny summer day like today. But my counter-badger is succesful and I'm soon off. The sun is strong, but it feels enervating. In no time the to-dos are done and I've some time to pop into some old haunts. The old toy store is now a dollar store; in fact the shops on 116th street all seem to be dollar stores, pharmacies, or quickie marts. After several weeks hunting down a decent couple of beach chairs in Vancouver, the plethora on offer makes the mind fairly boggle. No mind. I grab a few things at ~~the~~ a pharmacy and head back home.

It's Chinese night chez eux. Once it's arrived we sit (surprise!) at the dinner table to eat. Without guile Da 1.) asks for the remote; and 2.) asks me to shift "a foot to the right" so he better see the telly. This amuses more than offends. In typical Egan fashion we shovel and gab and the meal is over. I head downstairs to offer Nanny a cuppa (she declines) and instead engage in a multi-topic free association-type conversation with cousine, cousin-in-law and Auntie. Auntie is a nun and cousin (as it turns out) is an observant Catholic (the Angelus rang, though cousine and I both thought it the ice cream man). It's not until several hours later that I realize I've self-edited to avoid offending cousin-in-law: I thought I was long past being able to view marrying the love of my life as at all offensive...

Tea finished I seek out Nanny, who's sitting in the sun porch by herself. She's quite deaf, so the conversation only flows when she's inspire enough to hold forth. And though I've heard some of the tales before, they're all lovely and gorgeous because they're hers. A new one, about being the on-call principal of a school in Westmeath, at the age of 19, reminds again that the "ordinary" women of the world often have done the extraordinary. Tiggin tu gaelige? A bit Nanny. Conas ata tu? Taim go maith, go raibh maith agat. Agust tusa? Her smile, sometimes when I see her smile its through my 5 year-old eyes. Go raib maith agat.

Auntie comes in. She's socialized like a nun: good-hearted but often awkward. Nanny cannot follow two others speaking and withdraws. Da comes down and I offer to fetch photos of the new house to show Nanny. Da's taken my place, so I stand behind and listen in. Sensing Nanny's moved on from our time, I retreat to Ma. She's following the baseball and spending time with her in the evening means sharing her with the telly. To a point it's fine.

I'm so excited about this house I've not been so excited in years your father is a saint don't you love this TV you were amazing last year you know that when I came home from the hospital even the physio said it would take a lot of work and that made me wanna work even harder the last three days have been the best I've had in forever you know you sound so happy even Dad says he can hear it in your voice

She goes to their bedroom for a treatment and to doze off. So I wait for a message that tells me it's time to call my husband who's off on his own adventure.