Friends, I’m feeling a little guilty.  And lucky.  And thankful.

I’m heading to New York on the red-eye flight tonight.  I’m meeting my husband who is there (again) for work.  I am leaving my sweet boys in the care of our most trusted and loved babysitter Erika.  When Randy took this most recent job, he thought that the travel would be minimal when it fact it has been maximal.  (I know that’s not a word, but shouldn’t it be?)  As the trips began piling up in the calendar, he asked me when I would like to go to New York with him.  He knows I love it there and I haven’t been in six years.  My favorite time of year anywhere is the fall, so we settled on October.

I am reminded that six years ago, Randy and I were just settling in to our year in London.  His sister planned an October wedding in Richmond, VA and we were scheduled to fly in for it.  She was kind enough to invite my parents and we decided to meet up first in New York so that I could have a little more time with them instead of just the wedding weekend.  My parents are both from New York – Dad from the Lower East Side and Mom from Long Island – so I have lots of memories of time spent in the City with them.

Just a month before we were set to meet, I got an unthinkable phone call from my dad.  He was having some strange symptoms and when he went to get checked out, they found that he had a tumor on his bladder.  Subsequent appointments showed that it would not be possible to remove the tumor safely and they would have to actually remove his bladder, hope that they got all the cancer, and construct a new bladder for him out of a part of his own intestine.  He decided to schedule the surgery for after the trip to the East coast – he was so looking forward to the trip and his doctors didn’t think waiting a few weeks would matter.  I made the decision to return to Seattle for a few weeks after the wedding to help him and my mom out.

Those days we spent in New York were wonderful.  The weather was perfect, we ate well, we shopped, we walked, we sat in the park, we saw a show.  We could forget for moments the scary thing that awaited all of us after the fun was over.  It was the most bittersweet vacation of my life.  As we traveled south to Richmond and the surgery loomed closer, it was harder to pretend that we weren’t nervous.

I’ll cut to the chase and tell you that this story has a happy ending.  My dad had a rough recovery initially but recover he did, and he has been cancer free these six years.  He is as incredibly active as he was before the surgery and has continued to work as an oncologist helping people with their own cancer diagnoses and treatments in the warmest and most human way possible.

Ironically, as I am about to get on a plane to New York, I got word that my college roommate and friend Victoria has just had surgery for invasive breast cancer.  I haven’t seen her in years and have only been in touch with her via Facebook.  She lives in New York and she has a baby girl and she has an unfathomably tough road ahead of her.  The first thing I did when I talked to her yesterday (after telling her how sorry I am) was to offer up a conversation with my dad.  He has walked along the breast cancer road with countless patients, some even younger than the 39 years of my dear friend, and I so hope that he can be a resource, or even just a comfort to her.  I hope that I can see her and hug her and meet her baby.  I wish I could cook for her.

So, I’m feeling guilty.  Guilty that less than two weeks ago I was in San Francisco and tonight I head off to another world class city.  I’m feeling lucky that I live a life where travel like this is possible.  I feel thankful for my health, my family, my family’s health, and all the other things that make my life blessed.

I didn’t grow up going to the beach.  Oh, we have beach here in Washington state.  Miles and miles of it.  Contrary to what some people might think, Seattle is not actually on the coast.  I like to think of our state in the shape of a square root sign.  Seattle is in the “v” of that sign on Puget Sound.  If you want to get to the ocean,  you have to drive south and then west across the Olympic peninsula.  After about 2 1/2 hours, you reach the Pacific Ocean.  It’s beautiful and it’s cold.

The towns out there aren’t all that nice so when we would go to the coast, we would actually head to Oregon.  The entire coast line of that gigantic state is public beach and it is absolutely breathtaking.  You may have seen photographs of Haystack Rock, a 235 foot monolith sitting just a few feet from the shore – that’s in Cannon Beach and that is where my family usually stayed.  We went there for the beauty, we went for long walks on the beach, we didn’t go there to swim.

One year my brother Alex was in a small sailboat that tipped over in Puget Sound.  He had on a life jacket and was rescued about 20 minutes after he went in.  He got hypothermia.  This was in August.  If the water in the Sound is that cold, imagine the wide expanse of the Pacific Ocean.  No, we don’t swim out here on this coast.

My mom always says one of the hardest things about leaving New York to move to Seattle was not going to the beach in the summer.  Jones Beach was a big part of her childhood.  In my childhood, aside from a few trips to Hawaii, most of our warm weather vacations involved a pool.  Actually, come to think of it, most of our vacations were spent skiing.  Not a lot of beach when you are skiing.

In contrast, Randy and his family would head to the Maryland shore every summer.  Almost his entire extended family (and they are Catholic so there are a lot of them) lives in Baltimore and they would all descend on Ocean City for the week around July 4th to rent various houses.  Randy’s immediate family didn’t live in the area, so this was a chance for them to all reconnect.  Randy doesn’t have much of a memory, but there are lots of things he remembers about going to the beach.  He feels strongly that we go every few years so our children can build some of these same memories.

I’m happy to go.  I love this large extended family.  I love how his uncle Dan goes down early in the morning and stakes out territory with all kinds of umbrellas and fancy folding chairs.  This year we were 55 people so that is a lot of space to stake out.  I love the warm sun and the sea air.  I can’t say I love the sand, but I’m getting used to it.  I love the lazy day that involves nothing more than meals and walking to and from the beach.  Happy hour starts early and the nights go late.  There is always singing and guitar playing involved which creates some anxiety for me, but once I get my first song over with, I’m usually ready to sing more.  It’s a really nice vacation.  Before we left, we were thinking we would go every third year.  Once we got there (we were at Bethany Beach which is actually in Delaware), I told Randy I thought we should make it every other year.  I’m already looking forward to next time.

A word about the above photo.  My mother-in-law likes to have photos.  Not just a snapshot, although she likes those as well.  There are lots of photos of Randy and his sisters growing up posed in their Sunday finest.  It’s actually very sweet.  Somehow I didn’t get the memo that there would be a photo this year so I didn’t pack appropriate clothes for the boys.  Actually, I don’t even know if I have appropriate clothes for the boys – we live in Seattle after all.  So, while I was out sunning myself, Randy took the boys to a cute shop in town and bought them these super preppy and totally adorable outfits.  He never ceases to amaze me.

For those of you who are wondering when-oh-when I will get back to talking about food…soon, I promise.  Just need to shake the sand out of my suitcase.

Last fall, I went to L.A. to visit my dear friend Karen.  At the time, she was pregnant with twins – a boy and a girl – and I was thrilled to be able to spend some time with her before the chaos of two newborns kicked in.  I got to tool around Larchmont with her, meet her adorable little boy, and spend time lounging in their lovely new house (complete with guest house).  It was such a nice weekend and I couldn’t wait for a future date to get our families together.

Karen ended up on bedrest right after I left for the duration of her pregnancy.  She listened to her doctors and was able to make it to 35 weeks, close to full term for twins.  She delivered two healthy babies.  She had struggled with post-partum depression after the birth of her first child and so she left the hospital this time armed with medication.  When I talked to her soon after the birth, she sounded exhausted and overwhelmed but all right in the grand scheme of things.  They had help lined up.  She knew she was going to make it through that most difficult of first years.

A few months ago, I got an unthinkable phone call.  Karen’s mother called me to tell me that the girl twin had died.  A baby who I felt I knew but never got to meet died of SIDS at 8 weeks old. After a tearful conversation with Margaret, I had a brief and gut-wrenching talk with Kerry, Karen’s partner.  Then I hung up the phone and squeezed my children tighter than I ever have.

What can you do for a grieving mother who happens to be one of your best friends?  All I wanted to do was get on a plane and get myself in her kitchen.  I wanted to cook up a massive amount of nourishing and healthy food, enough to fill their refrigerator and freezer so they wouldn’t have to think about eating – the food would just be there.

As it happened, people flew in from all over the country.  I know Karen and I know the presence of one more person would have stressed her out and stress was not what she needed.  I stepped back.  I let them know I was here and would love to come down for a visit when they were ready for me.  I called weekly to check in but just got voice mail.

Then, she called.  She sounded good, grounded.  Thoughtful, introspective – all the things that you wouldn’t expect from someone who had lost a child.  They were ready for me to come.  Maybe I could cook for them, but what they really wanted was for me to bring my older son.  Karen had met him once when he was around 2 years old and he captured her heart.  (This is the same kid who hugged Dave Matthews.)  With all the sadness that had been in their house, and all the visitors, her older son had gotten a little lost.  Karen wanted a buddy for him for a couple of days.

So, we are going.  My son and I are getting on a plane this morning and heading off for the weekend.  Maybe I will cook.  I know I will watch two cute boys play in a lovely backyard.  I’m sure I will cry.  I’m grateful for the opportunity to go and give some love to people who need it.