I still feel the suspense, even though the story played out 11 years ago. Turns out that if I still had a 2002 calendar lying around (Ansel Adams that year) I could reuse it this year because the days of the week are correct.

fuck that.

Eleven years ago today … I had unknowingly crossed into a world where John would never speak to me again. He was still alive, his body, some spirit maybe – at the beginning of the end. Maybe 11 years ago right this moment, some spirit. Maybe not. There is peace in thinking his spirit didn’t have to watch the next days play out.

I think of friends of long ago, the first that weren’t there but heard what we were afraid might be happening. Eleven years ago today. It is so laughable that the hope was there even for a moment. I’m grateful for a day of hope.

Penny in the air. and I know how it lands.