Driving to New Jersey, yesterday, was a strange experience. Deja vu, I guess. At first I wasn’t sure I remembered how to get to the upper level of the bridge, then where to go in Fort Lee to buy the last few things Charna needed for camp. But it all fell into place easily. After all, I lived here eight years.

The bridge has a new coat of paint, and the scaffolding that clothed it for the last few years has been completely removed. I’m sorry I won’t see it at night when it is lit up. The renovations on my old apartment building are still not finished. It is almost a year since they sealed the windows on my terrace and began the work. I can’t imagine what they are doing for all of this time, but I can imagine what my neighbors must be saying screaming. I’m glad I didn’t attend the last coop annual meeting. That must have been a nightmare. And I am increasingly happy I got out of there.

Our drive to camp was uneventful. Charna was immediately embraced by her friends, everyone helped to unload her stuff from the car and with a hug and protestations of eternal gratitude, she was gone. I missed her when I got back to the apartment. Way too quiet.