she still loves…

She still loves to talk about the times when we were born. There was the apartment on Jane Street; their first one they got together when they married. They moved there to be closer to work. That was when A was born. She would talk about how the ambulance had to take her to the hospital because he was busy at work. She and he used to take A to the small playground nearby (it lies there still). She loves to recall the rent was only $300. They laugh whenever they mention the price. Every now and then she wishes they kept the apartment – although I don’t think it would have been possible since a number of years ago the building went co-op. He had an office in Chinatown. With amusement he would recall his brush with a gang boss of the day. He took care of the boss’s kids, but he didn’t realize who the man was until he saw his picture in the newspaper years later.

They had moved to a larger place a little further east when they had me. He said the rent was cheaper and the square footage was greater. Like A, I was born in Brooklyn Hospital. He moved his office to the same borough as well. At the time he had a red BMW. Sometimes he would take care of his partner’s patients when his partner was not there. One time when that happened, the Italian man whom he treated asked him if that red BMW was his. Yes, he replied. “Don’t worry, no one will touch it,” the man said. Not a scratch, dent, or nick touched that BMW ever – not until they had moved away from the city to Long Island.

It was their first house. That was when F came into the world she says. She would admit F was a surprise. We would tease F saying they were hoping for a girl. When it was time, they hopped into that red BMW and drove all the way to Brooklyn. He had never driven so fast. The story, of course, could have been better if it was snowing and rush hour traffic. The reality was in the hours between midnight and the dawn. While she stayed at the hospital, he said there was a gas crisis in the nation. So he went to form in line at the pump for hours, sleeping in the car. He thought he was the first one, but discovered shortly after the station opened that he was on the wrong line. He likes to laugh about it now.

She still loves to talk about us as babies. The way we ate, moved about, made them happy. She loves to laugh about those times – the times my brothers and I don’t remember. She tells us these stories… and what she says is gospel.

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This was meant to be posted last weekend… hopefully later is still better than never.