December 6, 2010

I spent the day yesterday huddled over a pure pulp escapism mystery novel. It was like hanging out on a movie set all day. Don’t look behind that flat or else. I’m very good at suspending disbelief.

I spent Sunday walking the gritty streets of Manhattan with a spunky, copper-haired archeologist in search of a serial killer.

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I spent the day yesterday huddled over a pure pulp escapism mystery novel.  It was like hanging out on a movie set all day.  Don’t look behind that flat or else.  I’m very good at suspending disbelief.

I spent the day walking the gritty streets of Manhattan with a spunky, copper-haired archeologist in search of a serial killer.  I got to delve into the sub-basement stacks at the public library – the one with the pride of lions out front – and in the archives of the natural history museum.  An important character died along the way and, through sheer guts and determination, ‘right’ triumphed in the end.

My mother loved mystery novels.  She’s not dead, but her relationship with the written word has changed.  I wonder if there’s any cognizant longing.  If there is, I hope it’s brief.

Today is not sad.  There’s no pall over the day.  There is awareness and it has it’s place.  Today, I love the sun on the snow and am happy to be doing good things.  I feel hope that my family will weather this and come out stronger and more tolerant.  We’re not the first people to do our best.

Significantly,

Susan Scot Fry

Update… Sheer guts and determination.  Check.

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