February 16, 2002
I swept the middle aisle, thinking about a significant woman who died of brain cancer a few years ago. Adding to the next day's rejuvenation from the tenth anniversary high school reunion for which I had some nightmares about attending unaccomplished but yet attended to learn about the others, I looked upon and within myself to see a man alive but working menial labor at age twenty-eight and thought of her who had exuberance and a future but lost it far too soon. I hadn't wept for others as I did then, gripping the broom. For who did I weep?