Naked

So, at the age of 48, you leave everything you love behind, move to New York to attend Graduate School, and everything changes.

My husband and I have managed to see each other, either in New York or Chicago, approximately every six weeks. The separation is difficult. Much of the time, you have only your secret language to rely on. The aspects of someone’s physical presence that you miss are surprising: their sounds, their smell, and their routine. When you do see each other, there are things to be relearned – that you are two again.

Mat was here last weekend. He had the opportunity to attend my art criticism seminar Friday morning. We went for a walk in Central Park, stopped on the Upper West Side for a snack, and then came home to Brooklyn for dinner. Saturday morning, it was Chelsea for breakfast and stops at a few galleries. We planned to go to the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island, but it has been raining non-stop, and we opted out of that. Instead, we stayed in, in my small room, watched bad movies on cable, ate candy and took a nap. It was as though I was 23 again and we were new.

It is an amazing gift to have someone in your life that you get to be totally naked with: physically, emotionally, and intellectually. All that is New York pales in comparison to the familiarity of last Saturday afternoon. And it is enough to carry me through until July.