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The chance to be here and not here

I’m sitting in a lovely community center downtown while Petra is in choir practice. Petra is my 10-year-old, younger sibling to the main subject of this blog for many years. Wally is now 15, a sophomore in High School. It’s been so long since I’ve written here—2 years!—it seems like perhaps I need to (re-)introduce the characters. Waiting in this quiet room is a luxury, a moment during the hectic week to breathe. Out in Brooklyn until after 11 PM at an editor meeting on Tuesday. Three-hour wait at the eye doctor with Petra on Wednesday. Picture Day. Spirit Week. Enveloped in this quiet, I’m reminded of the weekly brief but life-altering half hour I used to wait while Wally age 2 played with an OT in a sensory gym near Columbus Circle. I started this blog at that time, a moment when blogs were blossoming. No laptop, no parents I knew, a place to sit comfortably. Not a room to myself exactly, but still an in-between with its a liminal tranquility. A protected place for reflection. And no

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