American Waiting
This trip seems to have been all about waiting. Waiting at airports, waiting on immigration lines, waiting for my luggage, waiting for the sun, waiting for the weather to change and now, waiting for my dad to finish his lunch so we can spend a bit of time together.


It’s been an interesting visit. It started with seven hours of delays at JFK airport while the snow ploughs cleared runways and I could finally fly on to Florida. Florida, land of sunshine and palm trees - a much needed respite from the winter and English dreariness, but it was not to be. The weather in Florida did not cooperate at all. The first few days were cold, thunder stormy and rainy. Lots of palm trees,deserted golf courses and empty swimming pools. I had bought a new bathing suit that I didn’t get a chance to wear so I might even return it. It may be years before I have the opportunity to contemplate swimming again. Thankfully there is lots of indoor shopping.


In Florida I stayed with my cousin in a house that fulfilled my dreams of Florida living - all cream colours, big, over-stuffed couches and huge high ceilings. There was even a hot tub and swimming pool we could all stare at as we piled on more sweaters. My cousin and I had a ball. I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in years and also had such a warm sense of family. We are pretty much the same age and had so many family memories to share, so much history to catch up on that I don’t think we stopped talking for 5 days! I’m glad we both speak Yiddish cause I think we used up all the words in the English language,


I’ve written about this before but this visit I felt so much like I had found a sister. It was remarkable how easily we shared things. I know that we both grew up following very different paths, but somewhere along the way those paths converged and now we can sometimes travel some of the roads together. It was more than nostalgia for me. It was a sense of connectedness to generations of our families. The Yiddishkeit and heimlech quality of our memories make them extra special. We were both very aware of the fact that there is really no one left we share these childhood memories with. I can share many things with my brother and it is wonderful to also have my cousin with whom to share tears of laughter and sadness. We could talk about our parents and the ridiculousness of the dysfunctional families in which we grew up. We could share the days leading up to the deaths of our mothers and in sharing those intimate times we shared an intimacy between us that made our relationship much deeper. I feel a great sense of gratitude that my cousin and I have re-discovered our sisterhood. Cousinhood doesn’t seem strong enough.


We could even share comments about our grumpy old husbands and I loved it when my cousin asked me if I thought we had made them that way. Maybe living with us for all these years had driven these poor men into grumpiness? Possibly, but I sure hope not. I can at least console myself by believing that all men go this way eventually!


My dear friend in Italy has a relationship with her cousin that is as close to sisterhood as I have seen. I always envied her that closeness and over the past few days I have seen that it is possible to be so close to your cousin that she becomes a ‘sister’. At least my idea of what a sister is, in an ideal and very special world. It made little difference whether or not the sun shone. You can always by a bottle of self-tan, but you cannot buy these precious family ties – even in a Florida flea market.


Last night I arrived in Connecticut for part two of my US visit. My brother met me and again, I felt really happy to be with family. This morning we sat together and laughed at some YouTube video and just generally relaxed together and now I’m with my dad.


So strange to be with my father again. He is only partly there now and I’m pretty sure that he didn’t know who I was. It really isn’t that important. I sat with him today, held his hand, gave him cookies and we both had a nap sitting side by side. I find I want to stroke his hand and I feel quite protective of this wonderful, sweet-natured old man who is slowly becoming childlike again.


I will visit him again tomorrow together with my brother. My father doesn’t say very much now and the person he was is really fading, but he is still so much my dad and while I was with him I realized I felt very much like his little girl. So strange…