Mr. Astor

Home and safe (not padlocked-in like Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish) on a Saturday afternoon means only one thing: Mr. Astor is working and I will wait for him before going out; there's no sense, otherwise, if I'm going to have fun. Mr. Astor paints my face with long-forgotten smiles and leads me in crowd-pleasing dances. He inspires me to look at flowers, and I spent an inordinate amount of time watching flocks of wild parrots circle Lincoln Road an hour ago, thinking of him. He now dresses me; as he said, "You can't look anything but The Best". He comforts me during my periodic panic attacks and calls my office every morning to make sure I took my vitamins. I seriously judge evey need to leave the house without him; yet, he is the best cheerleader for my hectic social schedule if he is not able to attend.

He is the best thing that ever happened to me.