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Tuesday, December 30th, 2003
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2:37a
It is almost three in the morning and I can't sleep.
I had every intention to. I was lying in bed, the room completely dark, the fan humming to drown out the country silence. And I started thinking about my hometown. About the drive from my mother's house to my father's apartment and how many pink ribbons there are in between. Every single sign post here has a pink ribbon. Dru's smiling face is on missing persons posters all over town. During Christmas, in ND, we drove by the El Rocco for the thousandth time, where she had worked. Posters in every store. I thought about the year book under my record player with so many pictures of Dru smiling. I barely knew her.
I started thinking about Rachel, also from my hometown, a friend of my family's, a Thanksgiving day guest, the only other person I've ever met who's read The Mists of Avalon. She was kidnapped and murdered, her body found by three students from my highschool, including Abby, who I sat next to in Art 1.
I started thinking about Brian, the quiet police officer who always got taco salads at Freshway. I thought about Trina and I walking past his fresh grave soon after he committed suicide during our senior year.
I started thinking about my fifth grade social studies teacher. He liked my presentation on Helen Keller so much that he made a point to tell me after class. He was a universal favorite with the kids in this town, I went to highschool with his children, he coached my sister's basketball team and every time I go past his house to get to Katrina's, I wonder how a man so beloved by the town could feel so alone that he took his own life.
It's almost three in the morning and I'm clacking away on this loud machine, feeling cold and crying for Pequot.
Life really is heavier than the weight of all things.
K
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