Saturday, May 21, 2011

I had just found out that James had a limited amount of time to live.

I wasn't sure what time of year it was, but it wasn't wintertime. Nonetheless, we had decked out the house to celebrate his last Christmas. When putting up the Christmas lights, I found myself to be weightless for a little bit. But I couldn't bring myself to stop crying.


Sunday, March 6, 2011

A puddle of red remains under the wheels of a bus. My mom and brother sitting on our steps, surveying the tragedy is silence."It was that little boy down the street..."

My sobbing bus driver later tells me: "the first thing I said was, 'oh shit...'"

A pile of steaming gray remains: a sprinkler in front, a green jungle gym in back. A family standing on the grass, surveying the tragedy in silence. The mother has a sudden realization:

"That noise... that noise was... was our baby?"

How could you have left him behind?


Friday, January 21, 2011

I'm still having terrifying dreams about going to the beach. The waves are enormous and the undertow threatens to pull everyone into the dark water. But no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Large decaying buildings litter the dark skyline. There is a 10-foot wall where the undertow ends, and beachgoers nonchalantly climb a single rope ladder to narrowly avoid their peril. I don't remember if I got out.