I was crying a few hours earlier. Valentines Day has become a mixed bag for me. My eldest son, Richard, died of a suicide on Valentines day 6 years ago. He had four young children. So my feelings are all over the place today. On the one hand Jordan's girls are darling and very busy and chatty. I just see them and I get happy. Jordan gave me some great pants, my favorite brand. It's warmer and the snow is melting, the sun shining.
With this weather and the 3rd floor walk up, I dream of Los Angeles. I dream of being at the beach with the girls in Laguna. Jordan says she's never going to LA, that it isn't a good place to raise a young girl.
I am like the European who comes to America but then wants to be back in the mother country. So little Italy, Ireland, Spain, etc., is recreated in NY. I am in Brooklyn, but I think of the West Coast and quote it all the time. By being in a new place you can see the old place much clearer-the good and the bad.
The girls made cards for Jordan, (they marked it with a marker Munroe stuck in her mouth). And we made flour-salt balls to make molds of their hand. It was quite a mess- Munroe squeezed her hand together twice in the flour-salt mixture, stuck some of the paste in her mouth and hated it. I got Matisse's pretty easily, she let me push her hand into the mixture. But then she screamed like a stuffed pig when I took it away.
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