Last night, as the Bieber bus pulled out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal to bring me back to PA after a concert by the Emerson String Quartet, the thought occurred to me that I've turned into my mother. She commuted about three hours by car twice a week for thirty years (she had an apartment near the community college where she taught, in the Parisian suburbs) because that was the way she made her life work for her. I won't get into the details of why she made that choice, but I was in the car with her quite often, and to this day the soft purr of an engine on the highway late at night brings back these memories of happier times.
Before I moved to Bethlehem I could have sworn I would never do anything remotely close to what my mother did all these years, and yet here I am, hopping in and out of the Bieber bus, on the road just as late as she was, giving serious thought to the idea of renting a place in New York City, because life goes by fast and Bethlehem - in spite of qualities such as the quiet that allows me to write and the short commute - just isn't where I want to be. I do worry, sometimes, that I'll imitate my mother for more than that, but that'll be the topic of another post. For now I'll just think about the concert. New York City is worth every single minute spent on the Bieber bus. This is how I make my life work.