Making All Things New

It’s practically the end of April, I’m walking/dancing around an LA kitchen, a two week old baby in my arms. He’s looking up at me, just seemed to discover the miracle of how eyes work a few days ago, just learned of his hands yesterday. He’s smiling a half smile that looks like a smirk and cooing and I’m listening to a playlist on Spotify and a song called “Making All Things New” by Aaron Espe starts “I leave all the windows open/let the light come through. Sunshine warm and golden/morning making all things new.”

It is a golden moment, a feeling of immense… goodness overcomes me. It feels so damn good to see this baby smile and I don’t want to set him down. I had thought babies were boring but the truth is, I lose whole hours just walking around my friend’s house with his baby in my arms, delighting at the endless variety of shapes he makes with his little mouth. It’s not boring at all, actually. I’m here in LA helping out my friend Evan with his brand new baby boy. The surrogate delivered in Pittsburgh and I flew there to make the trip with Evan and his baby to their home in LA. I don’t want to have kids of my own, and I know nothing about babies, so I told everyone that I wouldn’t be a mother on this trip, rather I”d be more of a wife to Evan, caring for him, so he could care for his newborn. The first few days were hard, sleep deprivation robbing my friend of his sanity, and I just sort of silently fed a silent Evan. But then the other day Evan lit a candle and turned on music and as I made dinner, he danced around with his son. I snapped a photo of that pure contentment. I’m in Hollywood and I’d like to go to a bar, to hear some live music, but we’d gotten in to a decent groove of me watching the baby from 8pm to midnight and Evan gets a little sleep during that time. “Well, I guess this is the new Friday night,” I said. “I love it,” Evan said. “This is exactly where I want to be.” It’s inspiring to see someone I love, one of my longtime friends, a driven over-achiever always, decide he really wanted to be a dad, and now here he is, at the dawn of his fatherhood and I get the privilege of seeing it and helping in whatever minuscule way I can. He was so certain he wanted it. And it’s so right.

In the first months after my husband left me, I thought of moving to Paris so many times, tried to picture what my life would look like there. Paris is such a source of inspiration to me, its stunning boulevards that seem to hold endless discoveries, how I am so open and receptive when I’m there. But I’m so open and receptive now, and each day is endless inspiration for me. I’m in a major creative period of my life, brought forth by deep introspection and the fact that my emotions are always so near the surface. So I don’t need Paris right now for creative inspiration. What I need is a connection with those I love, and DC is giving that to me.

In the past months, I’ve gone to gallery shows and theater and live music in DC, I’ve hugged and loved on my biological nieces and nephew in Michigan, gotten closer to my amazing friends in DC and also deepened my relationships with my friends’ kids quite a bit – all girls who are at such fun ages. A few weeks ago I babysat three little girls and I taught them the rule that if you’re the “mom” in a game of house, you get to name all the kids. My sister and I thought it was funny to pick the most wretched names – Helga, Prudence, Gladys – so I named my friends’ daughter Rufus, and we got into a whole bit about it. It turned into a complicated storyline that included fashion designers and a trip to Milan and Taylor Swift. Basically, it was a blast, made all the more fun by the fact that when their parents came home, I went downtown and met my friend for a martini at Le Diplomate and that turned into a few whiskey gingers at St. Ex and we stayed out until 4am. As is the wont of the Fun Auntie.

I’ll head back to DC early next week. Soon after, I’ll move out of my attic apartment. That cozy and sad little space where I experienced the worst pain and grief of my life, where at times I felt abandoned in an attic (a la Jane Eyre, where Edward Rochester keeps his “crazy” wife trapped on the third floor). Other times I felt incredibly lucky to be in a great city with people who love me and the opportunities available to me felt almost embarrassingly abundant.

Soon, I’ll be all set up in gorgeous two bedroom apartment in an old building in a stately yet charming part of DC. It has hardwood floors and crown moldings and reminds me of the Only Murders in the Building building. It feels so right. I get chills picturing future dinner parties in the dining room. (It has a dining room!). All these friends, maybe even friend’s kids, making lots of noise, laughing, music going, creating warmth. Abundance.

“Look at all the colors/wild, wonderful and true. Your breath light as a feather/like little whispers in the room. Home where my love lives.”

To being right where you’re supposed to be.

Emily