I don’t know what to write about today. Okay, yes, maybe I do, although I’m not really sure which emotion to feed.
Okay, yes, I do. I need to feed them both.
I am content and melancholy, happy and yet somewhat sorrow-filled, mostly healed and yet reminded in a New York minute of the loved one who left more questions than even a year or four—or I so fear a lifetime of magical thinking—will ever satisfy the souls of the survivors.