electric frost
October 2, 2006
One year ago, yesterday, I arrived in this city as a resident.
Yesterday exactly would have been her 88th birthday. I ate apples and honey. Food is my last claim to a culture I was never part of.
The pain may ebb with time, but the loss never fills in.
It’s been a year of recognizable milestones in the lives of people who are dear to me – births, deaths, weddings, and so forth – the kind of things that get recorded by quill-scratch in the community roster. My own growth is less tangible, less earmarked, but it is substantive.
