Sitting down to write in journal #96 yesterday morning, I was stunned. I held hurt and heavy in my hands. Since I'd begun this journal on Monday, November 24, 2014, I'd: watched Ferguson burn that very night; seen Dad have an emergency and two serious surgeries; and, lost a dear friend in a senseless killing in his backyard in rural North Carolina. This has been my life and is my world. I keep moving. I feel the sadness, but I know that today holds a day of life, love, and friendship that I've recaptured for myself in a whole new way in New Orleans. Journals are about way more than writing.
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