Next week son starts his new job.
 
He will be working for City Harvest with their Institutional Partnerships Team.
It is a non-profit in NYC.
 
I am very proud of him.
 
When son was a younger son, he volunteered at City Harvest for community service requirements in high school. Maybe college too. I can’t remember. I do remember he really enjoyed working there.
 
I am happy. I am happy because I really wanted to raise my kids in an urban environment so that they reap get all the benefits such an experience might offer. And I feel son is reaping some of those benefits right now.
 
He is leaving a job that Wuzzy got for him in Educational Publishing. It was a very nice start but it was all the way up in Pelham. Which is pretty far from Brooklyn, or even Queens.
 
Now he will have a simple commute and get to work in Manhattan with all the convenience that brings. And all the luncheon choices.
 
When I see son over Thanksgiving, we talk about his new job and I am reminded of my 20’s, working in Manhattan, dashing about here and there, squeezing in the gym at lunch, lurching off to a doctor’s appointment before work. And, of course, many, many after work Happy Hours. Which sometimes got a little bit messy.
 
I don’t do that anymore.
But you already know that.
 
Son also got a promotion at SEEN, a company he does freelance writing for. He used to review shows. Now he is copy editing as well.
 
And next year, he will be MARRIED!
 
: O
 
I feel son is hitting his stride.
Walking in the sunlight of the spirit.
Son, I am so very happy for you.
Yes, I am.

 
This weekend son is here for the Thanksgiving Festivities.
 
Daughter is here too, although she is not sleeping over. She is going home at night to her very own apartment.
 
Still it is very nice to have them both here together.
 
We have our usual Thanksgiving with turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes and broccoli and carrots and crescent rolls and cranberries. Before we eat we do our grats, which everyone pretty much hates except me. This is when you have to write things you are grateful for down on a little card and put the card in a bowl and we all pick a card and read the cards out loud before we eat.
 
My card says I am grateful for my family all being together.
: )
 
So we eat. Afterwards daughter makes brownies. Now we are really stuffed. After the clean up, everyone piles onto the couch to watch football. I don’t know when I started liking to watch sports, but I think it has to do with moving to Philadelphia.
 
Not too long and I am falling asleep on the couch. My bedtime seems to be getting earlier and earlier. I tell everyone, “I have to go to sleep.”
 
“Ok.” They say. “Goodnight mom.”
 
I am very lucky Philly stays up late. He takes care of all the late things like driving daughter home.
 
Next day I get up and go for a 17-degree run followed by yoga. When I get home son is just waking up. Daughter is on her way over so we can have leftover lunch. In between I am hungry so I eat a Millet Muffin.
 
While I am eating I tell son, “Kind of tastes like sand.”
“Sand?” he asks. “Why are you eating it then?”
“I like sand.” I say.
Which is true.
 
Daughter REALLY loves sand. When she was a toddler I used to have to chase her around at the beach and unfurl her little sand filled hands before she put them in her mouth.
 
We eat lunch and now we are stuffed again. We shuffle back to the couch. I sit next to son. I tell him, “It is nice to have you around son.”
 
Son says, “I know you like to have me around.”
“Ha! You’re a funny guy.” I say.
“I have picked up a few things over the years.” he says.
 
He is funny, right?
 
Then he says, “I am waiting for some mom classics like:”
We should go for a walk!
Give me a hug!
How about a kiss?
Let’s have a talk!
 
Actually, I do want to go for a walk with son. We have nice talks when we walk.
“Yes!” I say. “A walk!”
 
Pretty sure I see eyeball rolling.
 
Next day comes and I get THE WALK! We go down the street and into the field that leads to the woods. We walk on the path and talk about his upcoming wedding, and the quiet nature of son. We talk about daughter and about all the recent happenings in Philadelphia. I tell son how much I miss being able to be part of his day-to-day life.
 
“I know mom.” he says.
 
When we get back it is time to go bowling. Bowling is a holiday family favorite event. We pile into the KIA and drive to the bowling alley.
 
Philly takes command of the score keeping. Son goes first, then me, then daughter then Philly. It takes awhile to get our groove going but after awhile daughter is throwing strikes! I am still winning however. Mostly this is due to my experience on a bowling league when I was 12.
 
Philly is trying really hard not be all competitive. But really he can’t help himself. He is pretty competitive for a Buddhist. He makes a joke about all sentient bowlers.
 
When we are done daughter tries her hand at the giant claw machine. You know the one with all the stuffed animals packed into it that you can never get out? Wuzzy used to be very good at this trick. Daughter is not having the same luck. She really wants the toad. She almost has it, but then the claw releases.
 
“Aw!” she says.
 
A few more tries and we give up and head down towards daughter’s work to drop her off. On the way we listen to The Strokes and The White Stripes and Nirvana and have a KIA SOUL sing-a-long. This is one of my very favorite things. The sing-a-long.
 
We arrive. Before daughter goes into work we all do a little shopping along the avenue. I walk into a store and am immediately overwhelmed with a sudden no-sense-of-identity or idea of what I want. Thankfully daughter is thinking way more clearly and helps me pick out a very cute hat. The very same hat she has picked out for herself.
 
I am honored.
 
Soon it is time for daughter to go to work and so son and daughter say their goodbyes since son will be leaving tomorrow. I feel sad seeing them hug goodbye.
 
Soon it is time for dinner. Philly makes us a lovely salmon dinner. Son gets the plates and utensils.
 
“Look at all these plates.” he says, “You should donate some of them.”
“Donate?” I say. “You know what would be more fun? We could take them outside and smash them and make a mosaic.”
Son shakes his head. “Mom kind of likes violence.” he says.
 
!!!!!
 
“Not true!” I say.
“Well you do like to smash things.” he says.
“That is different.” I say.
 
We talk. We watch more sports. I go to bed early like I always do. When I wake up I have a little sad feeling because I know it is the last day of our little holiday.
 
It has been so nice. Just to be together.
An ordinary holiday.
Extraordinary.

Last night Philly made the dinner.
This is notable because in the past Philly has not been much of a cooker.
 
Actually, neither one of us has been much of a cooker. Most of our meals come from the delivery person. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this. Our other option is homemade Nachos. We are expert at the Nacho dinner.
 
I was a cooker for a short time when I first arrived in Philadelphia and had lots of free time. Almost every night I cooked. Then I got busy and the cooking just sort of slid off the radar.
 
However, many people are busy and still find time to be cookers. Because they really like the cooking. Son is like this, a cooker.
 
I am not sure where he got it from but perhaps it is due to his food allergies. It is so hard for him to eat safely in a restaurant. But at home he can make whatever he wants dairy and nut free.
 
And so it is yesterday and Philly is cooking the dinner. He has chosen a nice piece of salmon. It looks very beautiful in the pan with all spices on top.
 
“Wow!” I say. “Look at you go!”
“I know!” he says. And he smiles.
 
He is also cooking rice. He wanted to make the little red potatoes but we ate them the other day when he cooked chicken.
 
“This is so great!” I say. Because I love it when food appears.
 
Not too long and it is time to eat. We set up the table. I find some beets I forgot we had in the fridge. We add them to the array. Also, lemon, for the fish.
 
Reader, I did not even know I liked salmon. Most of my life I have just avoided fish due to bad childhood memories of eating it.
 
“So good!” I say.
“Right?” Philly says.
“We should do this more often.” I say. Which really means I hope he cooks more often. Although I am a little inspired to get back into my cooking groove.
 
When we are done we kick back and have a post dinner chat. It feels good to have a home cooked meal.
 
Are you a cooker, reader?
What kinds of things do you like to make?
Maybe we can try one of your recipes?
Maybe we can!