It's so hard to be an empath on days like this. I've teared up like 17 different times. This essay from you was one of them. I feel so much closer to you now. I guess that's the point of this beautiful life, no? Hugs, my sweet friend. 💜💜💜
This is lovely! The idea of creation as a sign of hope rings true, and it's one of the best answers I've ever heard for the question, "Why do you write?" Thanks for the most memorable Sept. 11 tribute I've read in a long time. <3
Oh, my dear friend. After reading Return to Flight, more than once, I feel an even deeper closeness to you. Your vulnerability, strength, empathy, wisdom, advice, and so much continue to stay with me.
You have written with such a rare gift. Your words carried me through your present circumstances and into your past, while somehow opening a window toward our future. I felt your journey so deeply, the struggles, courage, tenderness, and hope.
I am profoundly grateful that you shared so much of yourself through this post. I feel honored to have been allowed into your world, and please know, your story deeply touched me.
Hugs, Lynn. Well, I wasn't trying to say I was wonderful. Believe me, those who drug me through life for a few years were more than ready for me to get on my feet. LOL I'm honored to have you as a friend.
Thank you for sharing, Deleyna. These events sear themselves into our timelines. They often change our lives, even if we're not observant enough to notice.
Twenty-five years ago, MacGuyver had just left for work. We live about two hours east of NYC. About 9 am, I was settling down to the computer with a mug of tea when he called for me to turn on the TV to check on a friend of a friend who worked at the NYC Federal Plaza downtown by the World Trade Center. She was a federal agent then, and I could tell without seeing her that she had to be very busy.
In 1986, I was working out in a women's health club and looking forward to a dip in the club's hot tub. While on the workout machines, I watched the TVs up high on the wall in the gym. That's how I learned about Challenger. And I passed on the hot tub. I even ended my membership there.
I'm going to take you farther back in the time machine to Nov. 22, 1963. I was in fourth grade, and we were playing outside for recess. One of my classmates ran up to me and told me President Kennedy had been killed. As my own father had died of cancer about a year and a half before that, I screamed at my classmate and called him a liar. Back in our classroom, our teacher told us the unthinkable had happened. School was canceled for a few days for the funeral. My strict grandmother who hadn't been a fan of the Kennedys admired Mrs. Kennedy's stoicism at the services and considered it "classy." Decades later, my therapist said that the First Lady's stoicism had set the cultural possibility of healthy grieving back a good fifty years.
Isn't it amazing how we have these repeated style of events? And we have to recover from each one. By the time we've been around a bit, the younglings think we don't care... it's just we've learned to survive!
Life is full of them. Alas, the younglings will have their share, too. And ours will feel as distant to them as The Great Depression and WWII feels to us.
I was working for a telecom company in Plano, Texas. I’m sitting at my desk when people started running down the hall. We all ran to the cafeteria where there were two projector televisions. We were watching when the second plane hit. Such a sad day! Loved your story and how you’ve overcome so many things. Hugs!!
It's so hard to be an empath on days like this. I've teared up like 17 different times. This essay from you was one of them. I feel so much closer to you now. I guess that's the point of this beautiful life, no? Hugs, my sweet friend. 💜💜💜
Hugs. Those of us who remember cry a lot on this day. And you are one of those amazing creatives that I see showing up and building beauty every day.
This is lovely! The idea of creation as a sign of hope rings true, and it's one of the best answers I've ever heard for the question, "Why do you write?" Thanks for the most memorable Sept. 11 tribute I've read in a long time. <3
Aw. Thank you, Laurie. That means a lot!
Oh, my dear friend. After reading Return to Flight, more than once, I feel an even deeper closeness to you. Your vulnerability, strength, empathy, wisdom, advice, and so much continue to stay with me.
You have written with such a rare gift. Your words carried me through your present circumstances and into your past, while somehow opening a window toward our future. I felt your journey so deeply, the struggles, courage, tenderness, and hope.
I am profoundly grateful that you shared so much of yourself through this post. I feel honored to have been allowed into your world, and please know, your story deeply touched me.
Hugs, Lynn. Well, I wasn't trying to say I was wonderful. Believe me, those who drug me through life for a few years were more than ready for me to get on my feet. LOL I'm honored to have you as a friend.
I have never read a writing post like this, and I doubt I ever shall again. But I will think about it for a very long time. Thank you for writing it.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for sharing, Deleyna. These events sear themselves into our timelines. They often change our lives, even if we're not observant enough to notice.
Twenty-five years ago, MacGuyver had just left for work. We live about two hours east of NYC. About 9 am, I was settling down to the computer with a mug of tea when he called for me to turn on the TV to check on a friend of a friend who worked at the NYC Federal Plaza downtown by the World Trade Center. She was a federal agent then, and I could tell without seeing her that she had to be very busy.
In 1986, I was working out in a women's health club and looking forward to a dip in the club's hot tub. While on the workout machines, I watched the TVs up high on the wall in the gym. That's how I learned about Challenger. And I passed on the hot tub. I even ended my membership there.
I'm going to take you farther back in the time machine to Nov. 22, 1963. I was in fourth grade, and we were playing outside for recess. One of my classmates ran up to me and told me President Kennedy had been killed. As my own father had died of cancer about a year and a half before that, I screamed at my classmate and called him a liar. Back in our classroom, our teacher told us the unthinkable had happened. School was canceled for a few days for the funeral. My strict grandmother who hadn't been a fan of the Kennedys admired Mrs. Kennedy's stoicism at the services and considered it "classy." Decades later, my therapist said that the First Lady's stoicism had set the cultural possibility of healthy grieving back a good fifty years.
Isn't it amazing how we have these repeated style of events? And we have to recover from each one. By the time we've been around a bit, the younglings think we don't care... it's just we've learned to survive!
Life is full of them. Alas, the younglings will have their share, too. And ours will feel as distant to them as The Great Depression and WWII feels to us.
Exactly. I remember thinking my mom was weird for some of her quirks when I was young, but now... PTSD is a thing.
I was working for a telecom company in Plano, Texas. I’m sitting at my desk when people started running down the hall. We all ran to the cafeteria where there were two projector televisions. We were watching when the second plane hit. Such a sad day! Loved your story and how you’ve overcome so many things. Hugs!!
We all have things we overcome every day... especially creatives who keep writing and turning out wonderful books!