It's black and white film.
There are people dressed for work, carrying briefcases. Walking down busy sidewalks.
Everyone surviving, hauling their own load and, in some incredible human dance, not running into each other.
Allowing for enough space, dodging and weaving as needed.
Then there is this one crazy bitch in color, red even.
She's screaming, expecting everyone to listen because what she has to say is so fucking important.
This scene is in my head as a result of looking through some old emails on another computer this morning. I was searching for one of Josh's old writings and, as a result, had to be confronted with some of my own.
It reminds me of something Dad had said, "Treat everyone with kindness 'cause you don't know what battle they're fighting."
The fact that Josh, Mom, Ellen and Chuck still even speak to me is such a miracle of human generosity and understanding. My only hope is that I can be for you what you were for me if you ever need it.
My wish is that you don't.
Dude. Thank you. I'm one lucky girl.
Divorce sucked. I was wearing red.