Fact #1: To know Edie is to love Edie. I say this not out of maternal bias as many would assume even though, clearly, guilty as charged; rather, I’m merely repeating what has been relayed to me by every person who comes into contact with her which is that she is irresistibly lovable. She’s just one of those rare breeds of people who others find nearly impossible to not like.
Fact #2: I do not claim to understand Edie’s particular kind of crazy but I do admire her 100% commitment to it. Edie often feels a little like life itself; a chaotic mess that somehow never fails to prove being worth the wild ride. But her dedication to crazy is never without purpose; when her shit hits the fan, she goes to great lengths to explain to me or whomever has set her off exactly why she is intent on losing said shit and precisely how whomever is responsible contributed to it. She also manages to give such a compelling and passionate argument that Joe and I have a very hard time being annoyed with her meltdown at all. She feels all the feelings, she tells us about them down to the most minor detail, never wavering, taking full ownership always. And you know what? I can’t help but admire that in a woman.
Fact #3: I’ve never met another soul on earth who loves their pork products quite as much as Edie. Last year, she convinced her entire class that no lunch was worth having unless salami constituted a majority of the meal. Her enthusiasm upon opening her lunch box every day and seeing those slices of salami in their designated compartment was so contagious that it wasn’t long before every other child in the class began demanding salami from their parents. Thanks to Edie, there is likely a small army of three year olds who need to have their cholesterol levels checked. On the flip-side, Edie’s never as upset or disappointed with me as she is when we run out of “lami’s” (pronounced lah-meeze) or, god forbid, I forget to restock them at the store. One such day that Edie didn’t find salami in her lunch box, she grew very quiet, teared up, lowered and shook her head from side to side, and with her arms out to each side to drive her exasperation home, she lamented to her teacher that “There are no lamis, Ms. Carrie. My mom hurt my heart because there are no lamis.”
Fact #4: If I hadn’t been there, I’d wonder if Joe wasn’t the one to grow, labor, and birth Edie himself because they couldn’t be more alike if they tried. I often wonder when— if at all— I’m going to show up in her because, truth be told, I want to be able to take some sort of credit for that child. Beyond the obvious— looking nearly identical as babies and toddlers— they are a pair of kindred spirits that always seem to be in on the other's joke. They have the same love language and good lord do they love a cuddle. They share similar roles among their siblings and are both even-keeled by default. They’re under-the-radar comedians who always know how to lighten a mood or say or do something inappropriate. They share the most beautiful almond-shaped blue-green eyes and lashes that seem to fan out across their entire face. They take the same physical stance with their knees locked and eyes glazed over when they’re deep in observation mode. They are both fiercely loyal to those who love them them, are deeply devoted to fairness, and can’t tell a lie to save their life.
Fact #5: Edie was born a week early, on Marlo’s due date, April 29th. She made labor and delivery as easy on me as possible and came into the world twelve hours almost to the minute after my first contraction, thirty seconds after my water broke, and without so much as a single push, forcing her father to witness the business end of things because there wasn’t even a single extra second to look away. Which, in hindsight, was clear foreshadowing of her overall disposition, general sense of consideration of those around her, and her holding people to a specific level of accountability. Edie reads a room and a persons’ needs better than most grown adults I know. Straight from the womb, Edie was born with the understanding that she stands not alone, but rather in relation to the world and people around her and, as a result, possesses the innate ability to fill the space meant for her without much effort. This ability to ride the waves of life, even as a newborn, is essentially how she came to be known as Easy E. Being in Edie’s presence— and being loved by her, particularly— makes life feel a little easier, a little lighter, even if in that moment life is proving to be unfathomably hard.