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I
remember
going
to
a
party
in
New
York
around
that
time
.
A
couple
,
a
pair
of
successful
artists
,
had
just
had
a
baby
,
and
the
mother
was
celebrating
a
gallery
opening
of
her
new
paintings
.
I
remember
watching
this
woman
,
the
new
mother
,
my
friend
,
the
artist
,
as
she
tried
to
be
hostess
to
this
party
(
which
was
in
her
loft
)
at
the
same
time
as
taking
care
of
her
infant
and
trying
to
discuss
her
work
professionally
.
I
never
saw
somebody
look
so
sleep
-
deprived
in
my
life
.
I
can
never
forget
the
image
of
her
standing
in
her
kitchen
after
midnight
,
elbows
-
deep
in
a
sink
full
of
dishes
,
trying
to
clean
up
after
this
event
.
Her
husband
(
I
am
sorry
to
report
it
,
and
I
fully
realize
this
is
not
at
all
representational
of
every
husband
)
was
in
the
other
room
,
feet
literally
on
the
coffee
table
,
watching
TV
.
She
finally
asked
him
if
he
would
help
clean
the
kitchen
,
and
he
said
,
"
Leave
it
,
hon
-
we
’
ll
clean
up
in
the
morning
.
"
The
baby
started
crying
again
.
My
friend
was
leaking
breast
milk
through
her
cocktail
dress
.
Almost
certainly
,
other
people
who
attended
this
party
came
away
with
different
images
than
I
did
.
Any
number
of
the
other
guests
could
have
felt
great
envy
for
this
beautiful
woman
with
her
healthy
new
baby
,
for
her
successful
artistic
career
,
for
her
marriage
to
a
nice
man
,
for
her
lovely
apartment
,
for
her
cocktail
dress
.
There
were
people
at
this
party
who
would
probably
have
traded
lives
with
her
in
an
instant
,
given
the
chance
.
This
woman
herself
probably
looks
back
on
that
evening
-
if
she
ever
thinks
of
it
at
all
-
as
one
tiring
but
totally
worth
-
it
night
in
her
overall
satisfying
life
of
motherhood
and
marriage
and
career
.
All
I
can
say
for
myself
,
though
,
is
that
I
spent
that
whole
party
trembling
in
panic
,
thinking
,
If
you
don
’
t
recognize
that
this
is
your
future
,
Liz
,
then
you
are
out
of
your
mind
.
Do
not
let
it
happen
.
But
did
I
have
a
responsibility
to
have
a
family
?
Oh
,
Lord
-
responsibility
.
That
word
worked
on
me
until
I
worked
on
it
,
until
I
looked
at
it
carefully
and
broke
it
down
into
the
two
words
that
make
its
true
definition
:
the
ability
to
respond
.
And
what
I
ultimately
had
to
respond
to
was
the
reality
that
every
speck
of
my
being
was
telling
me
to
get
out
of
my
marriage
.
Somewhere
inside
me
an
early
-
warning
system
was
forecasting
that
if
I
kept
trying
to
white
-
knuckle
my
way
through
this
storm
,
I
would
end
up
getting
cancer
.
And
that
if
I
brought
children
into
the
world
anyway
,
just
because
I
didn
’
t
want
to
deal
with
the
hassle
or
shame
of
revealing
some
impractical
facts
about
myself
-
this
would
be
an
act
of
grievous
irresponsibility
.
In
the
end
,
though
,
I
was
most
guided
by
something
my
friend
Sheryl
said
to
me
that
very
night
at
that
very
party
,
when
she
found
me
hiding
in
the
bathroom
of
our
friend
’
s
fancy
loft
,
shaking
in
fear
,
splashing
water
on
my
face
.
Sheryl
didn
’
t
know
then
what
was
going
on
in
my
marriage
.
Nobody
did
.
And
I
didn
’
t
tell
her
that
night
.
All
I
could
say
was
,
"
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
do
.
"
I
remember
her
taking
me
by
the
shoulders
and
looking
me
in
the
eye
with
a
calm
smile
and
saying
simply
,
"
Tell
the
truth
,
tell
the
truth
,
tell
the
truth
.
"
So
that
’
s
what
I
tried
to
do
.
Getting
out
of
a
marriage
is
rough
,
though
,
and
not
just
for
the
legal
/
financial
complications
or
the
massive
lifestyle
upheaval
.
(
As
my
friend
Deborah
once
advised
me
wisely
:
"
Nobody
ever
died
from
splitting
up
furniture
.
"
)
It
’
s
the
emotional
recoil
that
kills
you
,
the
shock
of
stepping
off
the
track
of
a
conventional
lifestyle
and
losing
all
the
embracing
comforts
that
keep
so
many
people
on
that
track
forever
.
To
create
a
family
with
a
spouse
is
one
of
the
most
fundamental
ways
a
person
can
find
continuity
and
meaning
in
American
(
or
any
)
society
.
I
rediscover
this
truth
every
time
I
go
to
a
big
reunion
of
my
mother
’
s
family
in
Minnesota
and
I
see
how
everyone
is
held
so
reassuringly
in
their
positions
over
the
years
.
First
you
are
a
child
,
then
you
are
a
teenager
,
then
you
are
a
young
married
person
,
then
you
are
a
parent
,
then
you
are
retired
,
then
you
are
a
grandparent
-
at
every
stage
you
know
who
you
are
,
you
know
what
your
duty
is
and
you
know
where
to
sit
at
the
reunion
.
You
sit
with
the
other
children
,
or
teenagers
,
or
young
parents
,
or
retirees
.
Until
at
last
you
are
sitting
with
the
ninety
-
year
-
olds
in
the
shade
,
watching
over
your
progeny
with
satisfaction
.
Who
are
you
?
No
problem
-
you
’
re
the
person
who
created
all
this
.
The
satisfaction
of
this
knowledge
is
immediate
,
and
moreover
,
it
’
s
universally
recognized
.
How
many
people
have
I
heard
claim
their
children
as
the
greatest
accomplishment
and
comfort
of
their
lives
?
It
’
s
the
thing
they
can
always
lean
on
during
a
metaphysical
crisis
,
or
a
moment
of
doubt
about
their
relevancy
-
If
I
have
done
nothing
else
in
this
life
,
then
at
least
I
have
raised
my
children
well
.
But
what
if
,
either
by
choice
or
by
reluctant
necessity
,
you
end
up
not
participating
in
this
comforting
cycle
of
family
and
continuity
?
What
if
you
step
out
?
Where
do
you
sit
at
the
reunion
?
How
do
you
mark
time
’
s
passage
without
the
fear
that
you
’
ve
just
frittered
away
your
time
on
earth
without
being
relevant
?
You
’
ll
need
to
find
another
purpose
,
another
measure
by
which
to
judge
whether
or
not
you
have
been
a
successful
human
being
.
I
love
children
,
but
what
if
I
don
’
t
have
any
?
What
kind
of
person
does
that
make
me
?
