It strikes me that this is the moment in time in which their dream, not yours, is fulfilled. We are there for them. It is their time to remember and to know. We do not yet know, and so cannot remember. Next year, I tell myself. Next year I will understand. I hear one of our class complaining about all the fuss. I break in. I tell them what’s on my mind. I think they understand.
Whose Dreams?
Subscribe
Subscribe to our e-mail newsletter to receive updates.
February 28, 2009
Travel to Anchorage