Friday, October 2, 2015

Dear Friend,

I hope you're having a good, quiet evening with your pups. Don’t worry about reading through my edits. They aren’t a worry for me. I feel good about your project; it’s full of joy and healing.

Tree branches are banging against my house, and they sound like someone pounding on my front door. They sound like fireworks.

This does not help with my skittishness from being certain some random dude with a gun is going to wander into a classroom on the campus where my daughter is studying sculpture, some random dude with a gun —pop pop pop. I can already smell my child’s blood. It’s time to text her again to make sure she’s alive and has working, texting thumbs.

This country is full of madness and pain.



No comments:

Post a Comment