Maria and I went to the Bronx Zoo yesterday to see my daughter Emma and granddaughter Robin for the first time in more than a year. We met them at noon, they were in the gorilla house, we went together to see the giraffes, the Mouse House, have lunch, play 20 questions, and visit the Madagascar Exhibit and the Sea Lions.

This is where I last saw my daughter and granddaughter before the country was locked down. I had no trouble reconnecting with Robin, but it did take a while. My offering of a stuffed raccoon helped speed things along.

There is something about blood that connects. It started to rain so we had to cut the visit short but it was well worth going.

We stayed over at an eerily empty and spare motel halfway to New York. It was so small I could hardly turn around in it, there was nothing on the walls, and one chair to sit in.

The owner, an apologetic host, said she bought the motel just before the pandemic (I think it was built in the 1940;s) and was about to fix it up. She’s just reopened and it was musty and dark. It did the job, we slept well, and it was plenty cheap,  but it was especially gloomy and uncomfortable.

The trip, on the other hand, was warm and cheerful, and loving. It was great to see my daughter and Robin, two remarkable women I rarely get to spend time with. My life with Emma was once so entwined, we live such different lives now. She is happy and successful and a wonderful mother.

Robin is already unbeatable at 20 questions.