Back in the Womb

I finished my job two weeks ago, on a Thursday, and on that day, during the going-away party my boss threw for me at a nearby pub, I found out that my mom has cancer. I had only moved into my new apartment the previous weekend, and had boxes crowding the kitchen and the corner of my bedroom. The next day, Friday, I walked most of the way to Target, picked up a few miscellaneous household things–a trash can, a desk lamp–and carried them to my apartment. Stephanie met me, and we set about unpacking, sweeping, swiffering, setting up. It was all done in less than half the day, and then I was on a Greyhound bus (after 2 hours in line at Port Authority) back home.

The past week has been full of relatives, visitors. Lots and lots of food. I cleaned out the refrigerator last week because I couldn’t take it any more. I discovered my parents were hiding three separate, barely cracked containers of sweet relish. I used as illustration of their discord these, plus the Hellman’s sandwich spread, which is just sweet relish plus mayonnaise. There was also a 32-ounce jar of Mayonnaise.

I have not done so much wandering. Usually it is around their house, which sits in an up-and-coming part of Center City, which means that it is still very tony. The nearest commercial stretch is South Street, which, for Center City, is about as bearable as can be. I have a coffee shop, a bookstore, and another coffee shop I can go to if my usual one is full.

Today, though, I went for a drive. It was around afternoon rush hour by the time I got out, so I decided to go to Penn’s campus, thinking parking would be easier there. I was in search of a cancer cookbook I promised my mom I’d get. I had to ask a man at the information booth for it, and I wonder what they are thinking; do they pity me? But cancer is so common these days, even though in these past weeks mine has felt like the only case. Maybe I am common?

When they didn’t have it, I set out west, with a vague idea of what direction to find. I ended up where I’d hoped–a stretch of West Philadelphia I remembered frequenting when I was younger. There was a familiar intersection of trolley tracks, an old church that used to house a farmer’s market. And then, I found myself in front of my mother’s old job. It was an education center housed in an old townhouse, a blue and white incongruous paint job, the same old sign stuck in the middle of the front yard.

I found a market that seemed similar to something I would visit in Brooklyn. There were women and their toddlers in the front yard of a home on a play date.

I’m a walker. I’m absentminded, and I love to gaze at old houses and peer into storefronts. I will stop in the middle of a sidewalk, change directions. I’ve had quite a few close calls with traffic. Not having been behind the wheel in awhile, my habit makes for some terrible driving. I almost hit a car, almost missed some traffic lights, and I turned the wrong way down a one-way street.

But the advantages of driving are plentiful. I can go further; I can go to places I might otherwise be afraid to. This is an obvious advantage in Philadelphia, where twice on today’s drive I ran into barricades of police cars blocking off streets. And I didn’t have to lug my laptop on my shoulder and worry about it being seen by potential thieves; it was hidden safely in the trunk of my car the entire time, free for me to whip out and start working if the urge struck me.

There’s not really a point to this post, except that Philadelphia can be a beautiful city, made even more beautiful by childhood memories, and observed quite nicely from the driver’s seat of a car. I bought some local cheese from Lancaster County that I’ll hopefully enjoy today; I’ll order my mom’s book on Amazon. If I’m lucky enough to have the car tomorrow, I may drive, or I may walk.

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