Anyone who's actually reading this may already know that we're expecting our second child. A boy. He's due at the end of October, but if he's anything like his sister, he'll come at the beginning of October. He'll be born here, in Phoenix.
The French have the concept of terroir, or as Werner Herzog put it, "the voodoo of location". He was talking about making movies, the Frogs are most often talking about wine, but really, they're both talking about essentially the same thing. If I take two seeds from an apple, plant one here in Phoenix, and one back in New York City, they may both grow into apple trees, but their fruit will taste different. That's the theory anyway, and it leads me to wonder how and whether little baby boy will be different from his big sister.
Gemma was born in Manhattan, though we left long before she could remember it. I was not, yet still, nearly three years after leaving, I think of both of us as New Yorkers. I can't imagine ever thinking of myself as a Phoenician, no matter how long I stay here. Some places just get into your blood. Three years later, I still talk and walk faster than anyone I know locally. I still say "wait on line" rather than "wait in line" at the bank, though it drives Monique crazy. I can't imagine that ever changing.
Now we wait for the arrival of the first member of our little family that hasn't been touched by that city on the Hudson, I can't help wondering, will it matter?
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