I will think of you on this day every year for the rest of time.
You were there. We walked through the city together, the irony of the sunshine on our terrified faces, with the crowds of quiet people watching as ambulances sped by.
And you wrapped your arms around me and said nothing. You just breathed. You were warm and you were safe - and we were alive.
My city changed that day. And so did my life. And, I think, so did yours. I wonder in how many ways - you kept everything buried so deep inside - I don’t think I ever really knew you.
Except for that moment, when I said to you, hands shaking, breath caught in throat, wide-eyed, “This is my home. My favorite place is covered in blood.”
You never said, “It’s going to be okay.” Or, “We’re safe” Or even, “There’s no reason to be scared.” You were as honest as you’d ever been - you didn’t know if it would be okay, if we were safe, if we should’ve been scared.
Instead, you looked me in the eyes and - like you had never been more certain of anything in your life - you said, “I know.”@2 days ago