The Chachi comes down here, sometimes. Stays here, or stays downtown in the hippest part of the city where walking is entirely sufficient unto whatever the day might bring. Walking works here, too, but this place here is far from hip. And she came here in December.
When we said “Come on down” to her on the phone, it sounded as if she hadn’t quite expected an immediate affirmative. And then… well she was committed. So The Chachi came here in December, leaving the shoveling of neighborhood sidewalks and driveways to some other good Yankee soul, because she was down here, and down here there is no snow.
No snow. And mild, if sometimes gray, days. Good days to be in Texas rather than New York. Although as for that (no offense intended to anyone), pretty much any day so qualifies.
One warm day when The Chachi was here, she embarked on a once-a-decade (by our reckoning) project of washing the back windows. They had become, shell we say, opaque. Ask her, she would perhaps confirm this assessment. Though as for that, our eyes grown accustomed to the opacity.
The Chachi took to the task with characteristic determination. I understand that several passes of soapy, vinegary water were required. And rinsing. And squeegeeing. (Is that really how it’s spelled!?) And then there were the bedustspecked screens which she tackled with a brush and a bucket in the backyard, which brings to mind a photo we have in the family of my grandmother in a dress and heels armed with a broom (and a bucket?) in some backyard somewhere doing something functionally equivalent to something approximately similar.
Apple. Tree. Fall not far from. (Sans dress. Sans heels.)
In any event, now that The Chachi has returned to the land of wind and snow and Yankees, we have this token of her visit, this visible (or invisible) gift she left us: our backyard. We can see the backyard clearly now!
So, thank you for the transparency, Chach. And for the Holiday Week. The guest bedroom is available, any time.