The 6 week garbage strike was over and for a while there I thought we had managed to escape unscathed. With the rental apartment and the garbage shute I was thrilled to say I had suffered no indignity.
The long weekend arrived and the strike had finally come to an end. To be honest I was sick of hearing about it. Who the hell needs to bank their sick days for retirement? They are SICK days, not vacation days for christ's sake.
And then just when I think we're in the clear, I embark on a bike ride and am engulfed with the stench that is beyond description. Troops of garbage trucks come at us from every direction across the field of the park near my house. I am choking back vomit.
"Breath throught your mouth" my friend screams at me as we peddle like mad to escape.
It turns our the place I was playing tennis for the first half of the summer was actually where the garbage was being stored. I don't think I will ever forget the site of those tennis courts and the smell.
And my brother called tonight to say that he called off the wedding. After the invitations and the flights booked home. They are done. Nine years later.
"She is dead to me", was all I could say. "dead".
Maybe the order of things is back. Maybe it was meant to be that my younger brother would not be married before me. Lucky for him he is a commodity in demand. A jewish doctor. Because he is also the sweetest man I know and his broken heart breaks mine.