day two of three

The day begins in lower Manhattan.

My mom, Jean, Valerie and I are at Bubby’s in Tribeca by 10.  The place feels homey and fresh farm-ish.  Much nicer than the old world place implied by the name.  Everyone is happy with the restaurant.

Valerie and my mom

Jean

We are about a 20-minute walk to the 911 Memorial Museum.  I have been to ground zero only three times since that horrific day:  in November of 2001, when a friend was in town from California and wanted to see the site;  in 2012 when Alexander and I visited the outdoor memorial; and earlier this month when I attended a BAFTA event.  It is a humbling experience every time.

The museum itself is exquisitely designed; the care that went into its planning is apparent.  The victims are respectfully remembered with each person given his or her own unique identity.  It is an affecting familiarity, one that is painful to relive.  The voices. The newscasts. The ubiquitous posters.  The chaos. So much sadness and fear.  So much grief and anger.  And so much solidarity.  We stay over three hours, and still don't see everything.

We get home around 5:30, with just a little bit of time to relax and get ready for the evening.

Then it’s dinner at The Mark. Abbey, Adam and Jason join us. The ambiance, the food, the company — all perfect. And my beautiful mother looks and acts nothing like the year we are there to celebrate.

My mom receives wonderful cards and gifts, but her favorite, of course, is just being with family.