It was a moment when time stood still, a moment I could feel in the marrow of my bones.
Each piece. Every place. The accident. The illness. The loneliness and isolation. The places I’ve worked. The positions I’ve held. The reasons I write and the reasons I don’t. My photography.
Each piece. Purposed.
It was a word that clotted in my throat for eight long years, hard-edged and jagged.
Allowed was a gentler word, softer, a word that could hover and sway at the edge of my days, a word I could scoop in my hand and look in the eye.
No.Purposed was not allowed the light of day.
Till my phone rang on January 1st.
“Happy New Year!” I greeted my friend.
She paused, then without even hello, quietly spoke six words, and time stood still.
“We’re supposed to start…
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