I’m in Park Slope, Brooklyn, getting a pedicure. In the next chair is a little boy with a plastic dragon and sparkly golden nails to match his Mama’s. She’s on the other sides of him.
My kid is also in Brooklyn, but she’s in Bushwick at the place she’ll be until she finds an apartment. She’s a grownup now, though to me she still sometimes looks like the little guy next to me.
Right now, this just feels like a trip to NYC. When I get home to my emptier apartment everything will feel more real. There are piles of things to deal with there.
Right now, I’ll focus on my beautification, and listen in on the quiet phone argument the guy a few chairs down is having with, I think, a romantic partner. “What you’re saying I believe in is not what I believe in.” It seems to be about sun screen, not philosophy.
My foot massage is starting. This is good. I need this.