One afternoon, some years ago, I went to my ex-wife’s office in Midtown New York City. I don’t remember the reason. We hadn’t been divorced that long. Things were still raw. I know I was. But there I was, in her Midtown office building, on a high floor. I remember at one point glancing out onto the street below and then, suddenly, my throat seized. My breathing became short. I felt as if every second were a struggle. As if I were learning how to do everything for the first time.
"The beginning of remedy is naming." A life lesson. For all sorts of ailments, physical, mental, emotional. That I think is part of the writer's job--to name things, as you did here.
A good description.
I think our generation learned this starting in the '60s.
"The beginning of remedy is naming." A life lesson. For all sorts of ailments, physical, mental, emotional. That I think is part of the writer's job--to name things, as you did here.
Yes indeed. That’s precisely what they are like!!