I swam. I ate. I got a haircut. I met TBG for lunch, read a book, cooked dinner, watched the Blackhawks, and went to bed. It was a regular, ordinary, Saturday... except there aren't any regular, ordinary, Saturdays any more. There haven't been for two and a half years.
Exactly two and a half years ago today the world was turned upside down. A nine year old was dead, my Congresswoman's brain was held together by a staffer, and I was riding in a Med-Evac helicopter.
Med-Evac.... Medical Evacuation... those are two words you really don't want to have associated with your name.
I drove past the scene of the crime today. It made no impression on me at all. Why? The storefront is hidden in the middle of the parking lot.... I drive past that corner three times a day.... it's only a place.... I have no idea why the location has not imprinted itself on my soul, but I'm glad for its absence. There have been field trips to the memorial stones set in the garden next to where Christina-Taylor and I were standing. I've been accompanied by reporters and friends and fellow shootees and their families and the space does not make me sad.
If anything, I feel close to Christina there. I was the last person to remind her that she was loved, and those memories of lying beside her on the sidewalk still make me cry... and probably always will. I can access those moments from anywhere, and I do. Being in front of the Safeway, though, brings me back to before... to watching her sign in to reserve our spot, to calculating the sum of Congress plus Supreme Court plus President, to noticing the photographer and jumping up and down at the thought of having our picture taken with one of those very important and powerful people we were discussing.
It was a magical moment. It lives next to my heart. I try to leave before it makes me too sad, before it, inexorably, inevitably, without my controlling it pours into clutching her hand and begging her not to leave me. I'll see her eyes forever.
Two and a half years, exactly. January 8th to June 8th. Both sunny Saturdays, filled with promise and the mundane.
I'm still not sure what to do with it all.