THE MANHATTAN EFFECT

2015-09-11 10.47.22As most of you know, I spent the first week of June traveling around Nova Scotia with my husband Brad and my daughter Taylor.  A treat for all of us, as none of us, had traversed the Cabot Trail or ventured over to P.E.I.  For anyone who hasn’t made this trek east, I can tell you it’s spectacular. Do it.  This country of ours has some of the most beautiful and awe-inspiring scenery in the world.

With all of that being said, the scenery that has meant the most to me is my daughter’s face. Such inner joy, contentment and on this particular visit . . . love.

We were very excited to meet her new beau, Alex.  Even though she’s been in Halifax almost six years, (arriving when she was only seventeen. She is now 22 – just in case you can’t do the math, like me,) and well able to take care of herself, it still made my heart beat a little slower to know that someone else could and would take care of her too.  She could lean on someone else, trust someone else.  She is so capable in whatever she does that sometimes she forgets that it’s okay to rest in someone else, to allow someone else to help carry whatever load is becoming too burdensome. When you are a complete person, and then have the incredible bonus of a significant other; a partner to share in your joys and sorrows, good days and bad, there is no greater gift.

Whenever I see Taylor, (and it’s usually only twice a year – Christmas and once during the summer,) it causes me to pause and reflect not only on how well her life is going, but on my own life too.

And now, The Manhattan Effect.

Those who know me well, know I’m pretty much a straight up Martini gal; very dry with two luscious olives marinating in heavenly Blue Sapphire. That’s my go to almost every time . . . almost.  One evening on our journey, I decided to change it up a bit and order a Manhattan.  Rye, Sweet Vermouth, and those little maraschino cherries – mm, mm, mm. 

I’m not sure exactly what happened next.  I looked at Taylor over our dinner plates, and every moment from the second she was born, to the agonizingly emotional day I dropped her off nearly 1,115.6 miles from home, along with everything in between, came flooding over me like a tsunami. I immediately broke into tears, thinking about how proud my mom would be of her; this independent, lovely, justice minded, empathetic, talented, gifted woman, and at that very moment how acutely I missed my mom.  I broke into laughter at the fact that I was crying like a fool, and Brad and Taylor were both looking at me with this, “whaaaaAAT,” minion face, which caused me to laugh even more.  Then as I thought about the new and exciting love in her life, and that my mom would not be around for her wedding, I cried some more. I had now moved from simply reliving the past to seeing into the possible future!  Then came a few more rounds of laughing/crying, laughing/crying, all taking place literally within a minute.

I am now forever banned from partaking in the libation known as the Manhattan, (although in fairness, I did order a double!)   From here on in I think I’ll stick to my standard; the good old fashioned, Martini – unless of course I need a good cry…laugh?  Cry? Laugh?

In the meantime, just to be on the safe side, I’ve stuck to tea since coming home.   Hiccup!

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