Then I

I suppose you could say it is my “comfort zone.”

It wasn’t designed for that purpose.

When I asked Randy, our par excellence man of many construction and repair talents, to install the three shelves, it was merely to accommodate new space.

My apartment is quite lovely, but also, quite small. The snowy night I moved in, my son reminded me that it was not different “From where you started out, Mom.”. Of course, he was right.

When installing the shelves, Randy pointed out that the vacant space between the new additions could accommodate one of the many large pictures I had brought from NY.

He helped me select a rather primitive one of 58th Street I painted decades ago. Initially, it was planned as a gift, but for many reasons that didn’t happen.

Whenever I look at the dark canvas I see the windows of long gone neighbors and the remaining friend, who once lived on the first floor.

I see my Aunt and Uncles’ window directly above ours, and I remember the many cool breezes that afforded comfort in those non air-conditioned days of yore.

After the picture was hung, I carefully added the photos that had also traveled with me. I thanked Randy, but still was unaware of the magnitude of the zone he had helped me create.

Now nightly as I gaze up the upper shelf, it brings my beloved back for fleeting moments. First I see the young 17 year old Marine, who I had not yet met. Next to him I find the lover I encountered when he returned from battle and who said hello on a dark subway station.

On the other side is the older man, beginning to tire from the ravages of illness, but determined to attend a wedding for a granddaughter of his heart.

And there in the middle of the shelf a picture depicts the strength, quiet concern and constant support of the family man. Sometimes weary, often overburdened with career and family responsibilities, but always available when needed by wife, children or country.

As I reluctantly leave his imagined embrace, my gaze returns to the lower shelf and I see the Fabulous four, all in different stages of life. Of course, not as they are now.

Three are constant in communication although separated by distance, Covid and life. The fourth, (I will ever believe equally constant in love) is distinctly separated by life’s sometimes inexplicable complexities. All remain the Fabulous Four in heart, mind and memory.

Before I dim the light, my last look returns to the oil painting and I remember where it all once began for me and those who shared that time and place.

Then I sleep in peace.