Monday, September 11, 2006
sometimes the sky is the same color, the blinding blue. Trips up the river were deja vu with the water shining a certain way, with a warm day on the way but still the morning coolness. Sometimes i see Steve and i sitting in the tavern together, helping ourselves to the tap and crying. I still have the NY quarter i got as change. My hair is longer now, it's grown back. I don't dread the phone like i did after my mom called. But still the sky is the same blue here as it was on the coast, which was the same blue that was ripped apart by the smoke, and the same blue as the sky in DC and probably the same blue in Pennsylvania.