I Can Hear Her Breathing

We continue to feel very protective of our family time, in our post-Helene, reunited lives. Volunteering happens weekly, at relief centers or river and creek cleanups. Below, you’ll see my son River climbing down the bank of Lower Browns Creek near our house. See how shallow that water is? That water destroyed our friend’s house, washed away their 15-passenger van, and took a woman’s life on September 27th, 2024. And yet, it’s life-giving – essential, even, to our very existence here. Now, we approach it, and all waterways, with caution and humbleness, alongside gratitude.

I think of author Arundhati Roy, who said, “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” And I look at Lower Browns Creek and see my son’s hand reaching into that cold, fresh water to pull out a plastic bag to put into the dumpster…and I can let two things be true: water takes and water gives; democracy succeeds and democracy fails; social media saves and social media kills. Two truths, and a million possible responses. Ultimately, we each must choose our own, but when we can ally and align, we will accumulate resources of care, collectivism, and sustainability, and at the end of the day, those are pretty nice things to think about.

In this month’s photos you’ll also see evidence of spontaneity at one of the relief centers we volunteered at because…what else do you do with a gigantic monkey costume when someone donates it as you’re unloading a semi-truck of donations? You wear it, keep restocking the peanut butter, and fill the room with laughter.

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