The Second Time Around
The first time out was short—6 weeks. They seemed longer. What I remember about them was the wetness. It rained frequently and my little one and I got unwanted showers. This time it is 10 weeks and counting. I am noticing things that were not visible the first time. I see more women out. The women are carrying large bags, plastic and not plastic. The women have large suitcases and they drag the suitcases across the floor, across the sidewalk. These women mostly dress in black—black skirts, sweaters, black scarves and coats and sunglasses. They are in mourning. They probably miss what they don’t have any more: a place that is their own, somewhere with a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom and a plant or two.