Nowadays I’ll just write with my stream of consciousness. Sometimes I wish I could live a 1950’s life with a nice man. Life is peaceful and easy now.  I like it.  I perceive a happy life for myself though I repeatedly get the intuition a grave tragedy will befall me.  Usually it’s not a disaster if I prepare, but I cannot prepare for this.  History echoes and I think I will have a daughter and then a son.  5 years apart.  My daughter dressed in red, my son in blue, and my husband in black.  One day my daughter will be taken from me. If I cry it will be out of respect but I cannot be surprised.  If she dies in my arms I’ll hold her gently and tell her I love her.  I’ll let her sink into my soft, dreamy flesh.  Into the ether. Meanwhile, the others dash to help, but if this occurs I must stay calm and relish the passing.

  Become the eye of the storm.  For her.