Ground Zero for the Future
It's 5:30 a.m. and I'm lying here in the dark in Hoboken, New Jersey waiting for my 18 year old daughter to awaken so I can send her to fend for herself in the New York public transportation system. She's off to her new interning gig at an NGO in Brooklyn. I just read this, and this, and this.
That we're staying with our absolutely lovely and generous friends in their fabulous apartment over looking the Hudson and Manhattan and that others are sleeping in shitty tents or just a filthy sleeping bag is not lost on me. Neither is the fact that in the last two months I've watched "up close and personal" both of my parents exit this mortal coil.
In a couple of days I will leave my daughter to brave New York on her own for three months.
Because of my parents illnesses and deaths I've not seen the place I've called home for the last sixteen years for months.
I'm not feeling warm, or cozy, or safe but the view is lovely.