Train I Ride

Last week we finalized the plans for my grandmother to come for a visit. She was coming to see her daughter's family (my aunt and uncle who were the impetus for us to move to this particular town), my other auntie who lives close by, and me, Lowell and Matthew as well. Then, last week, she nearly got run over by a train. Seriously. She was running to catch a commuter train after visiting friends on the south side of Chicago (she herself lives downtown) and tripped onto the track. With the train nearly upon her she flattened herself against the rise of the platform as it came into the station. Some good samaritans lifted her out after the train came to a stop and were relieved to find that: A. she had legs attached to her, and B. she could actually walk on them. She refused to go to the hospital with the EMTs that materialized almost immediately on the scene and was instead driven home by her friend's son. Later, after being talked into going to the emergency room by her nurse daughter it was discovered that she had two broken ribs. My grandmother still boarded an Amtrak train 3 days later to come and visit us. Are you amazed? I was. She will be 85 in December and this is quite indicative of her unsinkable nature. Did I mention she had 12 children? Including giving birth to triplets with 5 children at home? Did I? No? Well, that will give you some idea of whom that train was dealing with.

We had a wonderful visit, all the more poignant given her recent brush with death. Lowell was very shy at first but warmed up after realizing that she could not only catch a beach ball but bounce it off his head on command. He was hugging on her after no time, which was allowed since he only reaches her knees (the rest of us had to settle for air-kisses). I am so thankful that Lowell's two living great-grandmothers can enjoy him. I cannot imagine even getting to hug Lowell's own children let alone his children's children. It must be a joy that is unsurpassingly sublime. I hope I live to feel it myself someday.

In other news we are close to unpacking the last box (for the duration anyway, we won't count the 50 or so in the basement) so I will have to change the design of this blog's header soon. I finally sent out our "we moved" cards with our new address. I think that it took me this long because I really wasn't sure if we were going to stay here. Ha! No, really. I was engaging in elaborate magical thinking where we could actually move back to Brooklyn if we wanted to (we couldn't even begin to afford it at this point). This transition has been so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I think that I assumed that it would be easier because we would have so many more material comforts that it would make city-life-with-toddler seem like a deranged experiment. I was very, very wrong. The deranged experiment has taken on the rosy hue of nostalgia and both Matthew and I have been feeling awful, stabbing pangs of regret. Of course we could undo this if we absolutely couldn't stand to stay in this adorable house with our awesome yard and couldn't face assimilating into this funky and friendly community. We could undo it and flee back to the city. But we won't. I know this now so I sent out the damn cards. (ps. if I didn't send you one it's because i don't have your RL address - my ancient palm died in the middle of our move. Please, please send me an email with your addy if you would like our particulars). This week I have been feeling better about the whole thing, probably as a result of coming to some kind of acceptance of the situation. I know in my heart (as fickle a chamber as it is) that we did the right thing because we couldn't stay in the city without making unacceptable compromises. I know that we'll make friends here and Matthew will find a great teaching job and we'll live, you know, satisfactorly ever after. I know this. I just can't help mourning our old life. It was grand. Even with the cockroaches and the car alarms. It was grand and I some days I miss it bitterly.

Comments

[kara]

W.W.M.D. my new motto.

[lea]

she is truly amazing...I am even more convinced now that she will outlive all of us.

[wordgirl]

That's one amazing old woman! I hope you inherited her genetics. We need more old people like that.

[supa]

Oh my lord, she was run over by a train? And lived to tell the tale? That is amazing.

And neither can I imagine living to see Owen's grand-children. I'm loath to use the word amazing again, but, well, the thought of that really is.

[LetterB]

Amazing is the word. It's unanimous. I do hope that I inherited her genes and hopefully one of us gets her guardian angel in the will. She's got a humdinger.

[mom]

And your mother's good peasant bones.

[Mignon]

You say 'car alarm' and I'm instantly whisked away to life in the city. Sirens, car alarms, and Honda Civics with those enormously perplexing mufflers. And now I'm getting all nostalgic up in here. Mostly because I miss my Grandma, though. She could mix a mean Screwdriver and told great dirty jokes. I think she and yours would have been a hoot together.