The first time I felt truly afraid in this city I was sitting helplessly at my desk as I listened to an endless barrage of helicopters and sirens and the whispers of coworkers trying to account for everyone working out of the Navy Yard on the day a lone gunman killed 12, back in 2013. I was two months into the job and barely knew any of my coworkers. We were half a mile down the street. For years after, the sound of sirens sent me into a panic.
I don’t even really know what to say about today.
I was home with H. We even ventured downtown for a doctor’s appointment in the morning. Things seemed okay. Then they weren’t. But I don’t get to fall apart anymore. I have to keep it together, for him. I have to stay calm even in the face of endless sirens, of horrifying images on the TV screen, again just half a mile down the street.
I can only steal a moment, poised in front of a sink full of dirty dishes, to silently sob.
Last updated January 06, 2021