Eight years ago today, Dave and I were on a kayak-hike daytrip on Kauai, in the van on the way to the river. We overheard people talking about planes crashing into the World Trade Center and that they were gone. I thought they were talking about a bad movie. I listened for a while, then asked what they were talking about. It took the woman who'd been talking about it a few times to convince me that it really had just happened a few hours before. It couldn't be? How could that be? It's no less stunning eight years later.
I don't think that's why I don't feel well today, but it doesn't help. Bedtime.