Pnina and Buddenbrook
It is Sunday morning. I am curled up in bed reading Buddenbrook. I love that book. I had read my first copy over and over so many times throughout the years that it finally completely fell apart. I then borrowed it from the library. My dear friend, Pnina, who passed away after my Peter, also loved books. We were in the habit of discussing what we read. One day, while sitting in our living room, in front of the fire, I happened to tell her how my Buddenbrook had fallen apart. My sweet dear Pnina thoughtfully presented me with a new copy of Buddenbrook and a copy of the Book of Psalms and the Songs of Solomon because I found great comfort in the Psalms.
My kind and dear Pnina, how I miss your friendship, your humor, and your company. I miss our English teas and our outings to dim sum and Kelly driving us that last to Chinese New Year when you were too sick to drive. It was snowing that day. Kelly took a photo of the two of us as we got ready to go to the Chinese restaurant. I think that was our last time celebrating Chinese New Year. I miss our going to the Italian restaurant in our neighborhood. We leisurely ate as we sipped a glass of wine, talking, talking, talking. I cherish those times and often think of them.
Anyway, it is Sunday morning. It is dark outside. I don’t know what time it is, but I am curled up in bed reading. My classical station is playing soothing music. Suddenly I stop reading and listen. Is that rain I hear crashing against the roof and the windows? Yes, it is! How delightful! I snuggle deeper under the covers and listen to the combination of the music and the rain. My eyelids droop, and I fall back to sleep.