my mother just called from sydney, where it’s monday afternoon and she and my little brother have landed safely. my older brother was there to greet them, having timed his own arrival from his jaunt to fiji, to coincide with theirs. when i think fiji i think of how jim carrey lingered on the word in the truman show — adam gets to remember falling out of a palm tree. apparently he wasn’t hurt.
apparently he also brought back a bottle of 120 proof coconut rum. when, in a prototypical bloom family gesture, my mother produced the tinfoil block of grandma brownies, my brother proposed a toast. so, in little paper dixie cups somehow amazingly my mother had, she and both my brothers drank a round of fiji rum and feasted on the sugarless brownies my grandmother has been making, from the exact same recipe, for as far back as i can recall.
we’re thinking of you, she said, and she didn’t forget to wish me luck on my job or my doctor’s appointment. wish you were with us. remember it all for me, i said.