Rockettes and Going Back to New Jersey

What is it about the Rockettes that make me teary?

Thanksgiving morning I'm sitting on Lauren's sofa watching the parade. My girls and Lauren's kids (Heather, who is a day younger than Leah) are running around, screeching and playing. The Rockettes are about to go on and I'm yelling for the kids to come over and watch.

They are beautiful. Graceful. I think about how they were once little girls watching the parade, too, telling their families they were going to Rockettes someday. And the commitment and work and rejection they endured to get on the squad. To be out there on Thanksgiving morning, high-kicks in a line. Call me sentimental. But, I find myself tearing up. Clearing my throat. Go girls! Go!

 
Future Rockettes?
To be honest, I'm an easier crier. I was nearly in tears the night before over a coffee commerical. It's why waterproof mascara is for everyday, not just to weddings or whatever normal women do.

Later today, we'll go to Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws. It will be chaotic. Delicious. Lots of talk of Hurricane Sandy and our move to the Midwest. "When are you moving back?"

We drove to New Jersey from Illinois. It took two days and it sounds a lot worse than it was. Pennsylvania is lovely; rolling hills and lush farms. One morning, we drive through thick fog that's like going through clouds. The girls ignore the movie they're watching to oooh and aww out the window. They take pictures with my phone.

Ohio is a little flatter. And New Jersey feels familiar. We can't pump our own gas. We eat pizza and bagels until we can't stomach the carbs anymore. It's a long week but a good one. Sorry we didn't see everyone we wanted to see. Next time.

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