Postcard from the New York Public Library

Back in the space where my mom and her dear friend, Alice, worked as young women in the 1940s. I'm in a room where you can get a guest pass and use a big HP desktop computer for free 45-minute increments--a far, modern cry from the stacks where they worked. I didn't want to lug my laptop in, since I had to trek down to Wall Street for a work task.

I like to think of connecting to my mother here, to think of her seeing me now. She was a vivacious young lady, with long chestnut hair, luminous brown eyes and an Irish smile.

Mom, can you see me? Here I am. Where you worked. 
I can't believe I'm as old now as you were when you died. I still regret how painful that must have been for you. I wish I could have somehow smoothed your path, your exit. But I was there to listen at the end, and you did say some important things.
I'm doing my best in life. Actually, I'm kind of a mess. Some of my clothing is in heaps, my nice wedding dresser could use a dusting with Pledge, my home office is cluttered and last night, I saw a tiny mouse dart out from under the fridge when I got up for cheese and crackers at 3 a.m.
I'm aging; my knees hurt a little when I climb subway stairs. I'm bad about taking care of my skin. I struggle to take good care of my teeth. I don't always eat right. I spend too much money. And you were right, if I kept frowning like that, I'd get a wrinkle. I did--but as a writer, my brow furrows in concentration. Part of that frown is hard-won dues.
On the bright side, I am a good person. I am doing my best to be good and true. It is not always easy. I've cried my share of tears.
Have you seen Annie? Are you watching over her somehow? Tracking her? I need you. I hope and pray that you are. I think she is like you in many ways. You were a chemist. She is studying biology. You were gregarious; so is she.
What about Lexie? I need you there, too. Even though she's a handful, she is surely a golden-hearted girl. Have you seen her?
Well, until next time. But I hope I can stay connected to you. It gets hard after so many years. Yet I think you are in me, as every mother is in her daughter, for better, for worse, and for everything in between.

FRIDAY, MARCH 24, 2017 NEW YORK HIT LIST

• New York Stock Exchange. Saw the elegant gold and white building from outside. Couldn't help but think of Sigourney Weaver and Melanie Griffith in "Working Girl."
• Trinity Church Cemetery. There lies the seaman, U.S. naval officer James Lawrence, known for the phrase "Don't give up the ship"--words he uttered to the crew as he went down in the War of 1812. He is buried with his wife and his second in command.
• Alexander Hamilton's grave. I still haven't seen the Broadway musical, but was moved to come upon Hamilton's resting place in the graveyard [right near Officer Lawrence].
• Maiden Lane. I like that street name.
• Wall Street energy. Men in cutting-edge eyeglass frames, tailored coats. Carrying fine, supple leather totes, draped crosswise over their bodies. Delivery men hurrying along on bikes, their handlebars lined with shopping bags full of lunch for VIPs. 
• Coffee, coffee everywhere. A small Starbucks was tucked among the many trendy coffee bars. Even the wealthiest people in the world like a Flat White every now and then. And if you work on the NYSE, I wonder, how many coffees do you drink a day?
• The hustle and bustle of tourists. Nothing quite like it on a Friday afternoon, drizzling skies or not.

My session is about to end. Signing off.