the big six, oh.

my gorgeous mother turned 60 today. happy birthday. happy friday. happy new year. l'shana tova.

we had a family party tonight with an abundance of sweets: bday cake and hershey nuggets and pineapple-flooded fruit salad. missing were apples and honey and andes candie's from my grandmother's crystal-cut bowl. this was disappointing. andes candie's were always a myers family staple, but she is growing more senile with each passing day. i hate it. i walked around her house tonight taking photographs of the random things that remind me of my childhood: the precise thickness of the blue/green carpet in the living room; the beige patterned curtains in the basement; the ancient readers' digests collecting dust on an end table; a rusty old stationery bike; the ever-so-slightly cracked tiles.

she presented us with a folder containing letters and cassette tapes from our year in england (1984-1985).

precious. priceless.

julie at age nine was already so grown up and sophisticated: "i'm anticipating our travels to normandy and i am quite looking forward to dining on french fare." i was the baby, spelling-out everything phonetically and getting the lyrics to "ring around the rosy" all wrong: "ashes, ashes. FAWWWWLL DOWN!" our new york accents were so pronounced.

i will write more later, but everyone is downstairs. i should really go visit with them.

that is such a grandma gladys word: "visting."

it has been almost four years since she died. i think about her every day. it gets easier, but there's always a dull ache; a longing.