Before November 5, 2008

I woke with the quiet anticipation of cataloging every aspect of the day. Clipping the edges of billowy gray clouds pierced with sunrays to the opening page in a mental scrapbook. Preserving the sticky oval to felt, covering it with thin glass, mounting it with the registration card. Choosing clothes to be brighter, smaller, and more special in retrospect. Keenly aware of time to begin the story of where I was when it happened. Avoiding the news. The phone. Swimming in organic feelings, untouched by gray, bushy browed 3 piece suits and paisley bowties. Building possibilities but storing disappointment. Hope sandwiched in a rush hour subway car with Fear. Tethering pride and empowerment to reality and disbelief. Thinking of my grandmother on the day she prepared for but wasn’t sure she’d see. To see the country united in the absence of smoke, broken glass, and fire. Remembering this isn’t it. We’re not done. But we can see the other side.