Jan 10: Spa

To reward ourselves for all of the moving and unsettledness of the past few weeks, I scheduled massages for us. I also wanted to check out the local spa to see how good it was - perhaps put it into regular rotation on our calendar. 

The spa is in an old office building that actually was the final resting place of the program that hosted my extracurriculars and my summer art camp, Northern Westchester Center for the Arts (NWCA). NWCA was the brainchild of Bira Rabushka, a vioinist with the New York City Ballet - and it was a huge part of my growing up experience. It was a place where everyone belonged. A place that encouraged creativity and expression. A place that supported you drawing outside of the lines. 

I had already quit ballet and outgrown the camp by the time the center moved to its larger location.  But my sister stayed on as a counselor and art teacher, and I used to go back to help with fundraisers. It was incredibly sad when NWCA closed down. Truly the end of an era. The summer camp still lives on at The Harvey School, and many of the old campers and patrons of the center have reconnected on facebook. And certainly it lives on, vividly, in all of our memories.

I had found the spa on the internet and had a vague memory of seeing its sign at one point.  But pulling up for our appointment and seeing that it was housed in the exact building that essentially marked the downfall of NWCA flooded me with emotion. Now that we've moved up here, I can't turn around without life bringing up echoes and old memories for me. Will it stop? When? Do I want it to? Most of the time it's actually comforting, once I go through the initial emotional spin.  I'm pretty lucky to have had a rich and fulfilling childhood. It's not so bad to be reminded of it all the time, is it? I guess I just have to make sure I continue to live in the present and the future and don't obsess over the past. I have to be open and welcoming to new memories - especially since I have Stephen to make and share them with. 

I don't think I'll have to worry too much about revisiting this particular building, though. The space was space-planned by a moron, every surface seemed cold and hard, and there was hardly any privacy.  I didn't find it welcoming or serene in any way. Except that the actual massage was wonderful - much needed and much enjoyed. The experience was a little bit uncomfortable and at the same time very enjoyable. Which I guess it what reliving all of these memories is like too...