The sun hung low in the grey sky and the winds picked up over the heavy Hudson.
“That’s where I made my first dress… I was thirteen, I think..”
Joanne looked fondly at the bright red schoolhouse, just touching the low clouds. Her little hand mirror dangled from the side of her purse; quickly she flipped it open and gazed at her small reflection.


 “Ever since I’ve loved beauty… Seventy years later and still love it.”
She looked back up and observed the streets, lined with bright new apartment homes nestled between small shops, overshadowed by large billboards for Coca Cola, a new line of vodka or stores boasting the “most elegant in the east.”
“Sure has changed a lot since I was little.”
“You’ve been saying that all day, things always change.”
“Well… The schoolhouse still looks the same. Except it moved a little.”
“I suppose they picked up the whole building.”
She shook her head. “Always making room for something else, huh?”
Gerard smiled while rolling down his window, all proud to be driving the Buick kept in her garage like some unspoken agreement.
“Wherever this goes, we go.”

 
 We drove down the little streets past gangs of rough cigar touting men and women covering their entire faces as they went into their little homes. Then we crossed over tall, rickety bridges to meet with upscale neighborhoods filled with the same people just less venerable. Lodi seemed like such a safe and modest area and I felt very glad to know Grandma had chosen to spend her time there as opposed to these mismatched areas of town, all crouching under the weight of cranes, traffic and smoke coming in from all directions. I could smell the sulfur emanating from the streets.

 The grounds along the highway became sandier and less populated. Occasionally we passed by a few people gathering near a bench reading, trying to beat the cold wind. I felt somewhat uneasy and I could see that Gerard was beginning to look tired but determined.
“Dad, are you going to show us where the ferries are; you know, to NYC?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Later, I want to make another stop.”

 We curved around a mound of dirt and a massive metal bridge towered over the landscape; the shimmering Hudson could now be seen.
“Is the ocean just over there!?”
Joanne laughed; her infectious bright smile eased me just a little.
“Lucian, that’s the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. But I like to call it the Brooklyn. Nothing says you can’t have two of the same! I think you can have a little of everything if they go the same place.”
 We closed in on the little grouping of benches and people hanging just a few paces from it. The sun began to make its bold, fiery appearance out of the clouds.
“My, look at that sun… Lucian, Gerard, look at that sun…”
We all stepped out of the car, approaching the bank of the Hudson. I looked down into the shiny river and saw my reflection shimmering. Then beside my reflection came hers.

“If the sun can look this beautiful, it can make all of those unpleasant things mean nothing. I know I, you; we’ll always be OK.”
I looked up at the sun and she put her arm around me, the cold becoming warm.