The distance of 3,000 miles is still distance, even with the 'reach out and touch anyone at any time' technology of the internet and cell phones. This realization gets reinforced each time a call comes from a friend in LA, whose familiar voice makes me almost believe they are as close as they had ever been--20 minutes away since everything is 20 minutes away. But it's in the small inferences to time, to them having their morning coffee as I'm waiting to go have lunch, that I realize the true distance of my former life.
Such a call came yesterday as I stood on 6th Avenue, deciding whether to wait for the bus or simply hail a cab. The voice on the other end, shrank the distance in its familiarity, the ease of each of us slipping into established intimacies as we caught each other up to what is happening in our lives. Yet the call only established this new reality: I am far away. And with all of the technology easing communications between nations, peoples, none have been able to shrink this distance in any meaningful way.
In fact, the technology only seems to tease you into believing distance is something easily overcome. When in fact, this is merely fallacy. Air travel certainly made things faster, compared to the days, sometimes even months, it took people to travel cross country in covered wagons or trains. But air travel has not advanced since it still takes us a good five hours to get from New York to LA. And there is no getting around this fact. See, there is still the sheer distance of this vast country that no technology has been able to shrink down to a size where each of us could zip to see one another for a cup of coffee, allowing enough time to zip us back home.
I became the annoying person, chatting in public space with little regard for others, as I continued my conversation during the bus ride with my friend. I found myself, like most New Yorkers, continuing to talk as I disembarked the bus and started the walk to my destination. It was only as we finally said our 'good-byes' the distance between our lives became irrevocable.
The rest of the day was filled with Mommy duties of picking up my son from school, taking him to Dunkin Donuts for a snack, and then to this Tae Kwon Do class, keeping my melancholy for my friends, all irreplaceable, at bay. This move has been bittersweet from the beginning. There have been moments of sheer exultation mixed with the loss of so many relationships. Each day, I marvel at the turn my life has taken as I walk down a street, taking in the cacophony of the city, feeling much like Marlo Thomas in that indelible clip from her show where she throws her hat into the air. And yet, there are moments when the magnitude of this change settles in around me, taking my breath away.
My family, each of us, is absorbing this change. For our little boy, it can manifest in his inconsolable grief over a pair of red boots he detested and barely wore. With each of his ear piercing shrieks, each of us understands this irrational connection to an accessory is not about the actual item, but rather about the item's link to his former life--a life that had made sense to him. Each day, we wake up in our new house, settling into routines. And soon enough, the newness will feel less so, but routine. With this subtle change, our former lives will fade just a bit further into the distance, the calls from friends more nostalgic than heart tugging when they come.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment