Low-key, calm Saturdays are rare these days, and their infrequency makes them all the more dear. Today I read the first set of rough drafts from my writing students, and dozed on the loveseat. I rested, and watched the fog dissipate, the rain dry up, and the horizon reappear as the gloomy day lifted. A single male cardinal landed on the wet, white porch railing, a spark of heat. Later, a fat robin perched on the shed roof, alone.
On 9.11.2001, I was alone, in Alabama, 900 miles away from my family. It was at that moment that I started dreaming of a way to be closer to home. I had nightmares about national chaos, and being stranded from my family.
Today, I read Meg Cabot's story of 9.11 for the first time. I cried.
G and I shared our where were you stories. I clung to him, remembering. I clung to him, glad to not be alone, to have someone to share my daily life with.
Love. Compassion. Remembering. Peace.
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