do what matters

do what matters most. today. now.

i’m so glad i did.

i went to visit my 97-year-old bubby. it was time.

the excuses this last year were many - some noble, most not.

i will remember today’s visit with her more than all the other visits. 

more than the sleepovers when she cooked us eggs and onions in her basement kitchen. 

more than the joy in her face when she treated my kids to big plates of fries (double-fried) at bagel plus while sharing her not-quiet-enough running commentary about the regulars seated nearby.

today bubby told me about the day she gave birth to my mother. and about esther, the woman who would become bubby’s surrogate mother. 

in line for a food handout just weeks after his wife gave birth, my zaida overheard a familiar yiddish dialect from someone up ahead. wise zaida learned that esther was from bubby’s same village. he brought her straight to bubby’s room. the war left them with no parents, no siblings, no support - until there was esther, bubby’s village. also a mother, esther showed bubby how to nurse, how to bathe her new child. 

remembering her dearest esther with me today, bubby’s face lit up.

i almost didn’t go today. i could have made another excuse.

when it was time to leave, bubby squeezed my arm like my children would at daycare drop off. don’t go, she cried. i leaned my head against hers. 

this matters most, i thought.

NATALIE