I was doing laundry today and I had to wash my backpack because I had spilled some sweet tea on it.
Suddenly I remembered that I got it when I was in NYC visiting my grandfather. My sister and I were going to pop in for visit for the weekend (and so we could go to the doctor with him to get a straight answer) then he wound up in NYU hospital in Manhattan for a week.
We could only visit 2 hours in the morning and 2 hours in the evening, and parking for 2 hours was considered all day parking ($26 then, I’m afraid to think of what it is now) so we weren’t driving anywhere because we’d have to pay for it again. And we’d been out of the city for so long that I didn’t feel comfortable taking the subway. So to kill the time, since we left NYC when my sister was 4 and she didn’t really remember it, I would take her sightseeing. We’d walk as far as we could and then take a cab back.
I even managed to score tickets for a last-minute production of Lord of the Dance at Radio City Music Hall on St Patrick’s Day! At the end of the week my sister went home to pack and put in her notice at work and I wound up there for another 4 weeks taking care of him until my sister could get back and move in and my mother and daughter were with her and we had a big party for my grandfather’s birthday.
It was 1998 not all that long ago, but a lifetime ago. My mother’s gone, my grandfather went after her, then my godfather and almost all of my grandfather’s friends who were at the party…all gone. It’s almost a surreal feeling. Crazy how your brain can pour out so much information over looking at a piece of laundry.