Monday, October 26, 2009


Vicki, Victoria, is my mommy. She was planned 9 years after her older brother, 12 years after her sister—born July 18 1947, on 139 Division Street in NYC. Yiayia put her in the truck with the movers when she was 4 and settled in Astoria, Queens. Sometimes I look at her now and still see her as I would imagine her as a little girl. She was a mom when I was growing up— she never missed a day packing us lunch, or making dinner, doing laundry and keeping the house clean. She keeps a stocked pantry and has enough food in the house to feed a small army. She's got the most amazing thick black hair though she thinks its dreadful. She probably would have been a model had she not flown through a windshield at 18, almost losing an eyelid. A wardrobe to kill for when she was in her 20's—she had to mail 20 pairs of shoes home from Greece after spending the summer there. She was a buyer at Bloomingdale's in NYC and worked the ticket booth at Lincoln Center. She was wearing all white when she met my father for the first time and knew he was the one. She was married for 8 years before she got pregnant. She nicknamed Melissa, Doozer and me, Boudgie when were babies. She used to take me to painting class when I was little. Now she is a nursery school teacher, Ms. Vicki.

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