Saturday, May 1, 2010

Visitors keep Homes Alive






Since I moved to New York City in 2006, more than three dozen visitors have stayed with me at home. From different cities, countries and continents...some of them are good friends, family, acquaintances... others, perfect strangers. I know the high volume of visitors has a lot to do with how desirable New York City is as a traveling destination, but there is also another interesting element about these visits. Since I moved alone, I have had bouts of company all throughout my processes.

When I had my son Amaru, in the middle of a cold December, my aunt Marianela stayed with us for a week, pampering me, doing the house chores so I could regain my energy, making Dominican food and hot beverages for me (while lecturing me about the importance of drinking fluids when breastfeeding), and indulging in the "new baby" smell of my newborn son with me. I was in good company. Then, when my relationship with Amaru's father went awry and we parted our ways, I had one friend after the other come visit me, bringing some warmth and love to a house that was reconciling with the reality of a single parent family. I was in good company.

My latest visitor was Roxy, here from Barcelona on a shopping stop before heading to Dominican Republic. During this past week she was here, when Amaru and I came home, instead of opening the door to a silent apartment Roxy was there asking us about our day, the floor spotted with shopping bags which she later emptied to show me her finds; instead of watching Curious George while I made dinner, Amaru chilled with Roxy and was enthralled she allowed him to play paintbrush on her itouch (a big no no with his other iphone-owning uncles and aunties). I felt good that Roxy was there to talk to after putting Amaru to bed, I enjoyed accompanying her to the corner early in the morning so she could grab a yellow cab to the airport, and I really enjoyed strengthening our friendship bond a bit more. I was in good company.

Visitors for me are more than a pleasant surprise, they have become a necessary and indispensable presence in my life. The part of me that believes in a higher power thinks they are godsends, strategically placed from above directly into my doorstep, as if the universe was able to perceive how often I crave good company and true intimacy. Something really beautiful and intimate emerges when you open your house to someone, you invite them into your life, into your routine, into your struggles and into your joy. I can't imagine my days without Alex (my good good friend who lives on the first floor) coming up to have breakfast or to watch the cute landlord washing his car in shorts from my window; I can't fathom my weeks without someone sleeping over in my couch and having one of my 1001 pancake recipes in the morning; I can't picture my life as a closed space with no room for those who want to come visit and share it with me.

My visitors always thank me profusely for welcoming them and for my attentiveness during their stay. Little do they know that I get so much more out of it than they do.