I just read the saddest story in the New Yorker, an essay a man wrote about his stillborn daughter, Irene. The pain, the loss, the numbness was incredibly heartbreaking. I read things like that, I hear a story on the news this morning about how April has been the deadliest month in Iraq thus far, I have brunch with a friend who just marked the one-year anniversary of his lung transplant, and it puts things in perspective. And I want to slap myself. Hard.
Posted by thevieve at April 29, 2006 4:58 PM