When I was 22 and couldn’t stop crying, I called my mom, said, I’ve had a breakdown. She didn’t ask why or how or what happened, just picked me up, floored it away from that city like we were outrunning a wildfire in a windstorm. When I was 32 and couldn’t stop crying, I called my husband, said, I can’t do this anymore. He didn’t ask why or how or what happened, just raced home, picked me up off the floor, put me in bed, pulled blankets up like they might smother the flames. For years I contemplated that they didn’t ask why, how, who. Now I believe the asking was not their job. Theirs was to move the body to safety, ensure sufficient oxygen, stand guard. In the end, the only person who could locate the source of ignition was me.
For Christy
So amazing and so important.