![\"brooklyn_bridge_snst.jpg\"](\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/brooklyn_bridge_snst.jpg\")
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I drove over the Brooklyn Bridge this morning. It was my first time. The Bridge is my favorite one in this city of bridges, it has a grandiosity to its architecture and yet a democratic energy with the throngs of people walking across on the walkway, stopping to stare at the harbor stretched out below, the Lady Liberty in view over by the southern corner of Manhattan. I couldn’t linger over the beauty, obviously, or I would have plummeted to my death, but I felt a thrill … a real thrill … at the sheer size and beauty of the bridge, with the giant towers flanking the ends and the huge swooping cables coming up, coming down … not to mention the view, which is enough to take your breath away.<\/p>\n
I had left plenty of time … too much, actually, and was an hour early for the baby shower. Brooklyn Heights is so beautiful and quiet, with wooden houses beside brownstones, and dormer windows, and tiny cafes, closed on Sunday morning, and the sound of church bells in the air. I found a parking spot, and grabbed my book and took a walk. I did find a tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe that was open and grabbed a cup of coffee, and then went to sit in the park. It was pretty cold. No one was in the park. I sat on a bench, gloves on, and drank my coffee, reading Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?<\/i> by Lorrie Moore. It was still early enough that not too many people were out and about.<\/p>\n
Then I went back to my car to get my giftbag. As I closed the door, I saw a woman walking down the empty street holding an enormous box with a pink glittery bow. I figured, she’s going where I’m going<\/i> and followed her directly to the shower.<\/p>\n
It was held in a gorgeous house, full of light and artwork and beautiful artifacts, gorgeous old books, and everyone was nice and friendly. I hadn’t really wanted to go because this has been the raw-est week to end all raw weeks – and I feel exhausted – but this is family. I knew there would be people there who knew what was going on, my sister would be there, and really, when you get right down to it, it’s all about showing your love. It’s important. There was food laid out, and wine and coffee … weird to have a glass of red wine at 11:30 a.m., but what the hell. More people came. My uncle Tony and aunt Marianne arrived. They are here in town for the shower but also to go see their daughter Kerry in White Christmas<\/i> (for, what, the 8th time?) … a one-two punch. The second I saw Tony in the lobby I lost it and he hugged me and we both started crying. I was so right to come. The love of family. You do what you have to do. You are there for each other. That’s just what you do.<\/p>\n
My aunt Regina arrived, my sister Siobhan … so we all stood around talking, and it was just so good<\/i> to be there, to be with people who love me, and who are there for me. I have the best family.<\/p>\n
Lydia was wearing a black knit dress and looked fabulous. From the front you couldn’t tell she was pregnant at all. Her friends are really nice, I chatted with many of them … and then came the gift-opening extravaganza. These teensy onesies on display, these adorable little pajamas, so small you can’t believe a human body would ever fit into them … all these women, beautiful, all of them, some mothers, some not … all oohing and ahhing and making comments. You know, it’s easy (too easy) to get cynical sometimes about such events. I think that’s a great mistake. I have done it myself. Or I let my self-pity balloon into something monstrous, which ruins the whole thing for me. It clouds my perspective. But when I looked around the room at all the faces, I just saw love. Love for Lydia, love for Liam, and love for the baby that was soon to make its appearance. Lydia’s mother crocheted the baby a beautiful blue and white blanket, and everyone went nuts over it, which then sparked a whole conversation about crocheting, knitting, and crafts, in general.<\/p>\n
In that room, I could feel<\/i> the goodness of people. Almost like a light was emanating from everyone.<\/p>\n
Because you know what? In the end, even with all the bullshit and difficulties of life, people, in general, are just doing their best, and it is really important to remember that. I am doing my best right now. It may come out awkwardly, or emotionally, and I may forget to call people back, or need more alone time than I normally do … but honestly. I am doing my best. I think it is important to cut each other lots of slack. Even if someone appears to be freaking out or over-reacting. Because you know what? Maybe that person is just doing her best<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Longfellow wrote:<\/p>\n
Believe me, every man has his secret sorrows,
\nwhich the world knows not; and oftimes
\nwe call a man cold, when he is only sad.<\/p><\/blockquote>\nAnd so with all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I drove over the Brooklyn Bridge this morning. It was my first time. The Bridge is my favorite one in this city of bridges, it has a grandiosity to its architecture and yet a democratic energy with the throngs of … Continue reading