Friday, June 09, 2006

Thank Heaven For Little Girls

For little girls grow up to be great moms, good aunts and best friends. I could barely get out of bed today. My body is achey. Why - I have no idea - I haven't exercised in months. But I was exhausted. The phone rang with an unusually long phone number displayed on my little screen. I answered. "You must just be waking up, you're talking out of your nose." My Aunt Francesca's voice is talking to me from overseas in Israel. I am overjoyed to hear from her. The day I met "Tecca", I stopped wearing dresses. She wore jeans and cowboy boots in the midst of the 80's and said bad words. And made coke floats late at night in the middle of big family visits. She called me buddy and from day one said I was a writer and never gave up - even when I stopped writing and pretended I didn't know how. Our communication has always happened in spurts since she moved to Israel years ago. She did a stint in New Jersey recently - and will be returning soon. We chatted about movies, writing, books and anything else we could think of. It got me out of bed. I was able to get a wax and tan - but did not get my hair cut before the film festival tomorrow. For some reason, I'm obsessed with looking halfway descent for some B-rate movie stars, writers, directors and concession stand staff. I mention this to my mom. "You'll look nice," she says. "You always look nice." It sounds little, I know. But I always remember my mom telling me my hair wasn't right, or I looked good when I wore things that I hadn't worn since I was six (like a dress or a skirt or ear rings). As I got older, if she ever hugged me or looped her arm around my back and even so barely grazed my stomach - it made me squirm. I don't always have the best opinion of my own reflection. And though in the back of my mind I knew my mother never felt the same way - today her comment just made me relax. And feel like I will....look nice. I mention to Kim that I'm excited about the film festival. For a few minutes we talk about it. She thinks I'll have fun and it will be cool. I feel like she cares. Like she's interested. Like I can come home and tell her about it - or call her from the festival to tell her which celebrity doesn't shave their armpits.

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