Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Doing some research into past finances, John comes across a handwritten list on yellow legal paper of every meal out for a couple of years in NYC: 1986-88, where and who with. Memories I don't carry around normally, come flooding back intensely from the scribbled names and dates. Clear as a bell. Night after night. Save for Del Rio. Amongst all our regular restaurant haunts - Cinco de Mayo, Blackrock, Rocco's, Minetta Tavern, Lion's Head, Empire Szechuan, Cornelia St. Cafe, Jane Street, (and too many more to list...we ate out a lot!!!) there's a repeated listing of Del Rios Grill. We went with his sister, with mine. With several friends. Both of us drawing a complete blank. We spend the next several hours doing internet searches. John remembers how handy old phone books used to be at the library. I pull out some journals. Then I have to catch my breath. Some great moments defined, but more often, too much pain. Pain amidst the ecstasy. Tons of love, of friends, of John and my shared life. Delirious excitement with the birth of my first child and the daily fun. The pain comes from the endless whining about what else to do and worrying about how others see me. Even more painful because it's just as fresh today, almost twenty years later.