MIRIAM SHAMAH
I PONDER THAT AGE OLD QUESTION—TO DEAL OR NOT TO DEAL? SHOULD I RENT A PLACE I WILL HAVE TO CLEAN, OR STAY IN BROOKLYN WHERE MY HOUSE IS SPOTLESS AND BELONGS TO ME? MY KIDS ARE GOING, SO TRUTHFULLY I KNOW I WILL FOLLOW THEM. I ALWAYS, ALWAYS WANT TO BE WHERE MY CHILDREN ARE.
And so the hunt begins. One of my best friends, Barbara, happens to be a real estate agent, and we start the journey. I go to Jersey in winter. It is freezing, it is raining, it is windy. We knock on doors, we go to open houses, and we Zillow and Zillow and Zillow. Buying is out of the question, because—well—just because. We all know why. The prices are insane. So the decision is to rent.
Sometime later, after believing the rental market is fruitless, Barb calls me with an idea. She found an apartment near the ocean. It is teeny tiny, old fashioned, but clean. I cannot go there because I am working. We FaceTime. Wind is blowing in Barb’s face, and it is snowing. From what I can see on my iPhone, the apartment is not much, and very small, but when Barbara turns the phone around, I see the blue of the ocean, so I blurt out that I will take it, without seeing it in person! Uh oh, right—I am taking a chance. I jump right in.
Fast forward to a month later. I clean an already spotless apartment. I bring my own mattresses, and some furniture to warm up the place. I look and look and look at the view and am totally mesmerized. I see the sand, I see the blue, blue, blue of the water. I am reminded that the best things in life really are free.
But the absolute prize, the gift I receive, is about to come. I meet my neighbors. They speak to one another in Arabic. I am surprised and thrilled. I am transported back back, back to Tetas, Gidos, Aunts, Uncles, and Bradley Beach. My new neighbors are sitting on beach chairs on the lawn, in a semicircle, so they can all see the ocean. Out comes the kaak, the grapes, the bizzit. I tear up. Memories of the good ol’ days are special and forever.
I make sure to keep my windows open so I can hear the language of my ancestors. I wish I knew what was being said, but it doesn’t really matter at all. I feel my relatives in their melodic chit chat. My neighbors are warm and kind. They offer me a beach chair, to join them, to have a bite. I am American and speak English. They are Syrian and speak Arabic. We are all the same.
And so what I was taught from the summer at the shore—the simple things in life are all that I need. My richest summer is turning out to be my simplest summer. That is the absolute truth, and if you are in my neck of the woods, fadal!
Miriam Shamah is a psychotherapist who has been practicing in Brooklyn for 24 years.
