August 4

I’m not the only one. Everyone’s hopes, everyone’s dreams end up crashing and burning. I went to visit that nice woman under the linden tree. Her oldest kid came running up to me, all “Mom, look who it is!!!”, she came over, looking totally defeated: first thing she said was: “Ah, Mister — Henry’s dead!” The baby, remember… I just stood there. “And my husband’s back from Vermont,” she said, “came back totally empty-handed, and if we hadn’t had good friends out there he would have had to beg for bus fare, he caught pneumonia on the road.” I had no words… I gave the kid a few bucks, she asked me to take a couple apples from their farm, which I did, and I walked away from that place and all its painful memories.