It's on 9-11 that I sit in that round of chairs willing the floor to swallow me whole. 2012.
NYC years ago now, and I can almost feel the earth rumble as terror toppled two towers and left them to settle. Into Dust. Debris. Despair. Death.
I hold my own hands in that circle of seats, rubbing one thumb raw across the other while friends not yet friends watch my tears fall. My life fall.
I speak and shake and press through the rumble in my heart. Feel the twin towers of terror coming off their fear foundations.
How exhuming the dead sometimes gives you back your life.
And how making the decision to dig up the deep can redeem the gravest of choices.
The towers of terror topple... when I look around a circle and find the face of grace.