There’s something quietly profound about being cared for like a child again. This weekend, my mom came to visit, and amidst the usual joys and quirks of family time, I found myself unexpectedly reminded of that deep, tender comfort.
It started on Sunday evening. I got violently ill—spare you the details, but it was enough to knock me off my feet. My mom, ever the nurturer, came to my side with water, medicine, and a washcloth so cold it almost felt like a small shock against my fevered forehead. In that moment, feeling utterly vulnerable and cared for, I slipped back into calling her “Mommy,” a word I hadn’t used in years. It was startling, sweet, and strangely healing—to be cared for with such innocence and kindness again.
That tender moment set the tone for the rest of our time together in Brooklyn, a place that’s always full of surprises and the kind of little delights that make ordinary days feel special.
For instance, we spotted the most perfect vanity license plate on a car parked nearby. The boys had once suggested I get a plate that read “INFTRIZ,” short for “infinite rizz”—you know, that modern slang for charm and charisma. But honestly, I worried about the image it might send: a middle-aged mom cruising around in her modest VW Sport Wagon with a license plate boasting of endless swag. Some things are better left unsaid, or at least unshown on your car, right?
Meanwhile, my sister was also in town, and she caught the extraordinary performance of Andrew Scott in Uncle Vanya. What made it truly remarkable was that Scott played all eight characters himself, even managing a scene where he kissed himself—an intimate, dizzying display of theatrical talent. My sister was mesmerized, calling it “miraculous.” Interestingly, while many might swoon over Scott’s undeniable charm (she mentioned “his beautiful neck” as a highlight), her true celebrity crush is Anton Chekhov—the Russian playwright behind Uncle Vanya and a whole canon of hauntingly poignant dramas. Some people really know what they like!
Adding to the weekend’s atmosphere of joy and connection, a dear friend hosted a birthday party with a playful twist: When Harry Met Sally was playing silently in the background. The classic film’s presence—without the dialogue—gave the party a whimsical, almost surreal quality, as if the scenes were whispering stories of love and friendship in a gentle, visual murmur. It was a subtle but delightful touch that made the celebration all the more memorable.
As I reflect on these few days, I’m struck by how life’s small moments—the care of a parent, the charm of a witty license plate, the magic of a theater performance, or a cleverly curated party—combine to create the texture of our lives. These experiences remind us to savor the unexpected, find joy in the everyday, and embrace the connections that sustain us.
So, what about you? What little wonders have filled your days lately? How are your gardens growing? I’d love to hear your stories and share in your moments, big or small.
