Out of nowhere I get a blast announcing Mimi, my former neighbor’s, imminent arrival as if the circus were coming to town.
I could feel her excitement through the airwaves, childlike in breathless anticipation. She left over six months ago me thinking we’d never meet again, which proves, despite thinking otherwise, we are not psychics predicting the future.
“I’ll be staying with my friend Mousie O’Rourke, and hope I get to see all of you,” said the email to 9 recipients. And no I did not invent that name.
Last I spoke to Mimi, she was still on the fence about coming home. Apparently, assisted living for someone who still has most of her marbles, isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be.
“I miss New York Susannah, and wine and goat cheese at 5…Central Park, The Met and Whole Foods. This place is pretty to be sure, but I miss going out whenever it suits me. What could God have been thinking bringing me here?”
That God is a prankster alright.
You see Mimi is a fourth generation, card-carrying Catholic who thinks God tells her on a daily basis, which path to take. I haven’t the heart to burst her ecclesiastical bubble since, at 87, we can assume it’s pretty much rusted shut.
I just hope returning to her old stomping grounds will bring some level of clarity so she can live out the rest of her days in peace.
As for me, I can’t wait to see my friend and neighbor.
Goat cheese and wine, comin up.