Perfect Sky. Wrecked Sky.
Twelve years ago, I walked up the hill from the train to my office. My step was jaunty. The air was clear and bright as I chatted with a pal. The night before my college had hosted a writer to a huge crowd, and I felt the afterglow of an event gone right.
The sky was perfect.
And then the sky was wrecked. And so many lives were wrecked. And our nation’s sense of self was wrecked.
Every year, I remember each moment of that day. Every year I see it through new lenses, new ways of understanding.
The grief I feel is softer, but more complicated now. My instincts remain the same: hold all my dear ones close. Be kind. Commit to living life with with exuberant imperfection. Express gratitude.
One thing in life I am grateful for is you, dear reader. Thank you for sharing this world with me. Perfect or wrecked, it remains beautiful.