They came! by Ruth Neuwald Falcon

My things arrived today and the difference in how I feel is astonishing. It’s like when I sat in the comfy chair at Macy’s and let go into its embrace, only on a larger and more intimate scale. Much of the furniture I shipped here I grew up with, pieces that were antiques when I was a little girl. Some of them, I could see today as they arrived in this angular new apartment, are noticeably worse for wear. I texted a friend, “My antiques look like they belong in a different apartment. In a different building.” She wrote back: “They will get used to it.” She was right. Only a few hours later and they are making themselves at home. 

Three boxes are unpacked so far. Bedding. Lamps. My down coat. And, my Emmy.

In the past, I had a slightly self conscious relationship with the Emmy. I didn’t want to seem show-offy, so, for a long time, I kept it in a closet, then graduated to using it as a doorstop — that ended when an accidental tap with a foot caused the statue to snap away from the base at the ankles. When I called the TV Academy, the woman said, “Oh that happens all the time. Terrible design,” and, for a hundred-something dollars, sent me a replacement. That episode helped me acknowledge to myself that I am proud of it and maybe, just maybe, it’s all right to feel that way.

So, tonight, it’s one of the first boxes I’ve opened. It’s easy to lose touch with who one is when starting in a new city where one knows hardly anyone and one’s primary role is that of grandma. I love that identity, but as I scanned through the spreadsheet of boxes and their contents, wondering which necessities to unpack first, I stopped when I got to the Emmy.

I realized I want it out to remind me that there is more to me than that. No one else is visiting here so it must be for me that I’m doing it, so that when I walk into my office and see it there, I can nod and say, Oh yes. That’s who I am. I’d nearly forgotten.