Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The room was cold and dark. Their hair was damp from the rain. I began, two hours in, to shiver. By the end a certain palsy had set in, a fire in my throat and ears, an inner convulsion. Only one week left with these students whom I love, and it wasn't just my heart protesting; it was every bone and fiber.
Do you think you could pick me up at the station? I called and asked my husband, for by the time I reached 30th Street and got back on that train I was incapable of going any farther. He picked me up and brought me home. I slept from dusk to dawn. Love hurts like that. Goodbyes do.