Skip to main content

Featured

molecules and potholes

There is a rift between daily life, and the news that trickles across. In our little bubble, this quiet neighborhood, the price of a bouquet of roses does not change. The eggs are painted in shit and feathers, but taste the same. The little fresh market works on the weekends again, now that the weather is not terrible. Here, they sell overpriced red onions, stalks of broccoli, maybe some green basil if we are lucky.  The potholes sit  half-full with murky water. New buildings grow slowly as construction workers stare into the horizon on cigarette breaks. None of this changes, not a molecule.

But the rest of world is upside-down. Wild laws are passed. Prime ministers become dictators. Bombs are dropped here and there, like rainbow sprinkles on a doughnut - the more the better. Great decisions are made over dessert now, fueled by whim.

Being an expat means more than living far from home. There are many distances to bridge each day, and in times like this I want to throw my hands wild i…

rumashki

A woman I was involved with on and off for more than 7 years once confessed to me that the only happiness in her life could be described as fleeting moments, odd surprises that vanished as quickly as they surfaced. The rest was predictable and disappointing. Naked under her sheets, I was struck by her sadness. I made us breakfast, as she shuffled around in her great blue silk bathrobe, wearing old glasses and looking wistful. I wish I could ring her up right now and ask her if she is happy. I imagine she would say yes, after a long pause. I imagine she would say "just not the happiness I might have expected".

In the face of chaos in a country described as a police state by the locals, I am grasping for these moments, not as a form of satisfaction. No, as a set of stairs to climb. These moments give me strength, and resolve.

Last night, one of the kittens was attacking the newly decorated christmas tree in full force. At 3AM she took a leap from the top of the tv set, and landed high in the false, plastic branches. A sparkly bird in her mouth, she rode the tree down to the floor with a tremendous crash of German ornaments bought at the Saks on 5th Avenue so many years ago. In Russia, when a glass breaks, a vase - anything fragile - they say it is for luck. Little grey Julia stared up at me in the darkness. She had accomplished what she had set out to do. She looked satisfied.

A few days ago E came home from detskie sad with the nanny to find no one in the apartment. She asked to come to the studio, and they surprised me, jumping around in the window in front of my desk. For dinner, we ate milk and cereal from coffee cups and drew pictures of girls named Masha and Sasha. On the way home, after 10, E chattered away in her rickety pink stroller. A few pretty girls called out to me, joking and asking why I was out with a child so late. E burst into laughter. I sighed a few minutes later and asked E what in the world I was going to do. She smiled up at me and told me "Dodya Feya" - -which means "Fairy Godmother". She told me she was coming, and I should not worry.

This morning I went to rinock to buy fresh bread and raisin pastries - - bulochki iziom. For the first time, I read the little paper for them and saw they have a nickname - - rumashki (wild daisy). These are E's favorites, that she eats in the middle of the night when she is hungry. If she only knew she was eating daisies.

Comments

Popular Posts

best personal blogs
best personal blogs