Double Wave

I grew up ( as much as I did) in an apartment house in Jackson Heights, New York. Whenever I left the house, my mother would kiss me good bye at the door, then head to the window of our fourth floor apartment, to wave good bye to me as I left the building.

As a young child, my responding waves were cheerful, enthusiastic, appreciative.

As I grew older, my responses became less so.

Suffering from the malaise that is teenage adolescence, my responses deteriorated to half hearted and, unfortunately, half assed.


No more.


When my boys, my buddies, my pals, Miles and Landon, leave the house these days, I respond with some cheerful and hopefully endearing variation of a "double wave." I enthusiastically wave both arms to elicit smiles and laughter.





One arm wave is for my grandsons.





The other is for my Mom.





Happy Birthday, Grandma. Keep smiling.