December 7, 2014
A Day that Will Live…
She, downstairs, unable to sleep. I, upstairs, awake, with an injured knee. We meet, with surprise, on the stairway, stumbling in our own world’s worry. A 3 AM reunion of the elderly. We feel the end in our bodies, in our bones, as we embrace, grateful that we are here, now, together in the darkness.
December 7, 1941
The searing memories of December 7, 1941 fade into the black-and-white of history, as most of those who lived it are gone from us. But the aftershocks still pulse. My father was drafted into the army after December 7, 1941, and my mother moved to Washington DC to work in the war effort, where she met my father. Seventy-three years later, Sharon and I, serendipitous progeny of that fateful day, embrace in the darkness…