In one short week, I get to return to Boston (technically,
it’s Medford – pronounced "Med-Fid" if you’re from there, not "Meffa" as the
amateurs say). And the reason for my once-a-year
appearance in the city I grew up in is to celebrate love and family – something
that, over the course of the last five weeks, has grown more important to me.
My parents will be married 50 years on May 12th and, that, in this day and age,
is cause for celebration. In 1960, over
the Christmas Holidays, my father, making present deliveries with his Aunt Lil,
walked into a room and saw a blue-eyed blonde girl sitting at the kitchen table. The
rest, they tell me, is history.
Over the course of my life, I have pictured a long and
lasting relationship for myself, and when I was young I thought each new date
would lead to that picture perfect dream. I can still name each and every one
who broke my heart, and the circumstances surrounding them are as clear today
as if they happened yesterday. Back then, there was no Internet (how’s that for
showing my age), and I met each and every one the old fashioned way. I flashed
my smile, I said hello and we carried on - wait for it – a conversation that
didn’t start with “’sup,” or “stats?”
From Bruce to Brian, to Edward and the boys who all begin
with the letter M, each one made me feel as if I were on top of the world. The
problem with being that high up is that the fall to earth is incredibly
painful. And, in between, there have been glimmers of hope and stories to
entertain for years, including the infamous story of the dinner made and left
in front of the door because he was working late. It was one of my better
moments - the lowest being the screaming break up in the middle of Castro Street
at 2 a.m. Yes, I was one of THOSE scene making queens.
So, next week, as I toast to my parents, who, of course,
have had their share of fights, but whose love and affection for each other
outshine all the dramatics - I’m
reminded that lasting love does exist. Perhaps this is the year I’ll meet that
person across the room. Or maybe, like I’ve written in one of my stories, I’ll
reach for an apple in the grocery store at the same time he does and the whole
display will come tumbling down around us.
Whatever the case, I will never
force it, and although we will celebrate with Aunt Lil next week, (a gift in
itself); I know that my own catalyst will make its presence felt. Whether it happens
this year, next or – shudder- when I’m in my 50’s – all you really need is the
belief that you will walk into a room and see the person you’re meant to be
with sitting right in front of you. And when you reach the top of the world
again – the view will be breathtaking.
