Mother of the Bride.
Mother of the Bride.
A Story of Friendship
Some days are gifts. And while the hours unfold, you just know that it’s one you will remember for the rest of your life.
I had a day like that last Sunday. I am fortunate to have a small group of friends that were very close colleagues when we were working together way back—as long as 20+ years ago—and have stayed in touch over the years. It wasn’t work to stay connected really—we’ve all gone our separate ways professionally, our families have grown up, we’ve gotten a wrinkle here and there. We’ve enjoyed wonderful times and heart-breaks, physical triumphs and illnesses, but still our connection was there, and in fact it has grown stronger in recent years.
So when we got together for dinner for our “last” summer “girls” outing, one of our group was bummed about something. Her daughter who is getting married this winter was being given a bachelorette party, to which our friend was not invited. As much as we told her that’s the way it’s supposed to be, she seemed to feel worse, so much so that to cheer her up we said we’d throw her a “mother of the bride” party that will be the “envy of all.” That was a couple of months ago, and we talked about having it in Brooklyn where I am lucky enough to have an apartment we could use as a home base. And as one would expect, before we knew it—the weekend was here, and I kicked into planning mode. There was so much to do—it was the perfect day. We met up in DUMBO, and started out with brunch of course (it IS Brooklyn!)…at Celestine’s in 1 John Street (fabulous—food, ambiance, wait staff), we tried hitting a couple of galleries, but quickly made our way to Photoville 2018 (incredible—see photo below). Then down through Brooklyn Bridge Park to the Atlantic Avenue Main Street Fair—the biggest street fair in the U.S. In its 44th year, it did not disappoint. Being in Brooklyn, the food, “wares,” music, guests – were eclectic. All the stores and restaurants on Atlantic Avenue were open. It was a giant party!! Bandstands, dumpling-eating contests—a true Brooklyn scene. We ran into my niece, nephew and grandnephew—I knew we would. And just as I said for the third time, they live right here, we heard, hi Aunt Sandy from behind. Hugs, kisses, love, introductions—just the icing on the cake. We started back to the apartment to freshen up and relax before heading out to dinner at Alma’s—with plans to sit on the roof deck and watch night fall over the River while drinking their classic margaritas. On our way back to Columbia Heights, we had to make a quick stop. The mother of the bride’s mother’s first job was on Montague Street between Clinton and Court. She made $25. per week back then, and remembered the bank fondly—sure enough it is still there, and through its many iterations is now Citibank, the bank she ultimately retired from 30+ years ago.
At the apartment, we kicked back—some wine, cheese, crackers…conversation. They loved the apartment and everyone felt at home. We didn’t make it to Alma’s after all, we just continued catching up, ordering in some pizza and opening another bottle of wine. As we sat at the table, we all felt loved and comfortable—without question. We commented that here we are after 20 years sharing this time together at this table we never knew would be. It was a truly spectacular moment in the most unspectacular way, and we all recognized and cherished our good fortune.
