It will not do for me to be hopeless and less-than. It will not do for me to decide that things are on a downhill journey that is impossible to rectify. It will not do to be friends with disappointment.
What about you? Have you been visited recently by the Covid team? I would love to do a totally non-scientific survey. In the meantime – wash your hands.
This school with the brown linoleum hallway floors and the globe lights and the pencil sharpeners and the long wands that were topped with window latches for opening and closing the windows, and the cloak rooms and the chalk boards. This was the place I returned to every September for nine years. From age 5 to 14. I loved it more than my own home.
Danny, was 11 on 911. He had been, for a few hours and without knowing it, a child in danger of losing his parents. And there he was, standing at the bar, having traveled though 20 years, sharing his story with me, a stranger. Something that happened 20 years ago had come full circle and placed me and Danny at an intersection of immense specificity. An 11 year old boy whose parents dodged a bullet and an older woman who had never given his generation a thought.
August is right around the bend, and it is one of my favorite times of year. There is something about the light that has softened. It has changed from the baking hot heat light of July into a mellowed tone. August light has been around the block. It knows a thing or two.