I'd never heard of this incident before, so thank you for adding it to my awareness. The infinity of human histories is humbling and fascinating to me. Only by sharing stories and anecdotes with one another can we even begin to gain some sense of it.
Thank you, Emma. The events of that night leave a long shadow. For years, I've been a regular at the commemoration, around the tree, every rainy 4-10 at 6:22. This year, I was up waylaid by something at work until too late, which rankled. The following Monday, we found ourselves at the AMC Hospital, visiting one of our nieces - three years old, two broken legs - I could write a novel about her circumstances (perhaps I'd better say 'weak bones' before anybody jumps to the wrong conclusion, but anyway...)
I stand at the window for a moment, taking my turn to hold her little sister - six months old, angelic, not a day in hospital so far - while the family busy themselves with feeding two-year-olds, consoling each other, and changing nappies. As I watch, the sun sets over Amstelveen, and in the south east, the lights start to come on in the saw-tooth ranges of apartment blocks in the distance. There it is again, after all these years. One's missing. You never get away from it.
I'd never heard of this incident before, so thank you for adding it to my awareness. The infinity of human histories is humbling and fascinating to me. Only by sharing stories and anecdotes with one another can we even begin to gain some sense of it.
Thank you, Emma. The events of that night leave a long shadow. For years, I've been a regular at the commemoration, around the tree, every rainy 4-10 at 6:22. This year, I was up waylaid by something at work until too late, which rankled. The following Monday, we found ourselves at the AMC Hospital, visiting one of our nieces - three years old, two broken legs - I could write a novel about her circumstances (perhaps I'd better say 'weak bones' before anybody jumps to the wrong conclusion, but anyway...)
I stand at the window for a moment, taking my turn to hold her little sister - six months old, angelic, not a day in hospital so far - while the family busy themselves with feeding two-year-olds, consoling each other, and changing nappies. As I watch, the sun sets over Amstelveen, and in the south east, the lights start to come on in the saw-tooth ranges of apartment blocks in the distance. There it is again, after all these years. One's missing. You never get away from it.