I’m sitting in front of my laptop at the dining room table, but staring out the window without even registering the fact that all the leaves are down, when some sort of shining – a deer! – comes springing out of the woods and cuts across my vision for about half of a teachable moment.
The day was covered in the same cold grayness as the day before, with everything seeming either broken or old, but then five, maybe six men, emboldened by the barbaric roar of their backpack leaf blowers, marched in a loose line across the dull width of a dead space, incautious conjurers inspiring the last ragged remnants of summer to dance.
This isn’t any ordinary day. Anything can happen. Backyard chickens can peck foxes to death, and a drunk traffic cop arrest a drunk driver. No one is safe. People stand in the dust, talking, breathing, wondering at it. They lift their kids up, say, “Look! Remember!”
AMUSING OURSELVES TO DEATH