The smell of rain brings me back. I’ve had a nervous day since the start with the unbearably tragic news out of Orlando. I can only be heartened that the tone does feel shifted somehow, if not the final effect, that people are coming to hear the broken record within themselves and that prayers and kind sentiments are only that. That you want this to change, you change it. At the legislative level. You change the core belief that the gun violence is some sort of inexorable reality. Violence, perhaps, but if we can do something about this one particular brand of it…
There is other news. Sunday news. Parts of which I haven’t even processed yet. My mother’s got to have a test on her liver on Tuesday. It’s not routine. Tuesday is also a dental office visit for me and they’ve hurt today. There’s my sister asking to be repaid for things that I never asked her to repay me for…there’s waiting to be paid again and not being sure when that will happen. The boss called and wants me to be somewhere I don’t have easy ways to get to first thing tomorrow morning.
The rest of today’s post was written in a letter.
In the corner, Le Tricolor hangs. The banner dates from the time of the Revolution, though as with so many things here, the absence of light removes crucial details such as wear and age.
It’s going to be alright.