That Day A group of friends and acquaintances has gathered; and, for the first time, the conversation isn’t centered on who’s paying for the next shot, or who’s “on deck” for a round of bar darts. We are shocked, stunned and uncomfortably vulnerable after that afternoon’s horror show, now seemingly on a forever loop of planes crashing, buildings crumbling and people covered in ash. It is September 11. I’ll never trust Them. Never. The words fall on my ears like lead. They are heartburn eating up my chest, and I am disappointed. This acquaintance is bright, funny…and kind. But, but… I stammered through the shock and vulnerability, almost pleading, Hold on here. I mean, did we mistrust all white guys after Timothy McVeigh…did we? The Next Day It’s my best friend’s birthday, but the smoke, sadness and fear has wiped away any thoughts of celebration texts or calls. I make my way to my one-bedroom apartment down the busy thoroughfare that’s dotted with fas...
Finding out everyday that sometimes, late is right on time.