my journey of self restoration
What was Jim doing when it happened? Was he sleeping? He ran every day…was it on a run? Playing guitar? He’d been sanding the ancient wood floors of our small Oak Park bungalow. Did it happen then? Was he on the Metra train headed to work in Chicago’s loop? On the outside, life was normal.
A lonely alley ran along the back of our dilapidated Eugene rental home, and my brother and I would spend hours riding our bikes up and down the dusty strip, our ankles caked in grime by the end of the day. I’d lean over the handlebars and pump my short legs with determination but my
The snow continues to fall and our window for escaping my in-laws is closing. Cleveland is known for lake effect snow. As freezing air moves across a warm body of water – in this case, Lake Erie – the lower layers of the air pick up the lake’s water vapor. As the vapor rises, it
Despite the sunshine, the air carried a chill. When the wind picked up, my hair whipped across my face blocking my vision. Jim held his ball cap down as the gust shifted, an invisible force threatening to lift the hat off his head and send it out to sea. He pulled his coat closer. It hung
I didn’t see him approach. My head was turned in the opposite direction, my neck craning to see Alicia Keys on the jumbo-tron. Two trees, a building corner and a half million people stood between me and where Alicia spoke on stage. I was cold from standing still, wishing my fingerless gloves had fingers. My protest sign
