this year, we no longer have the farm and i'm alone in DC, in my own apartment, having assigned the blog post i wrote last year to my students during a global pandemic.
i feel i've never been further from jackie than i am right now. which is hilariously not true since her photograph surrounds me and i am, currently, writing an article about the stupid movie.
but i do feel somehow disconnected from her story, a story that has sustained me for decades. is this maybe a protective detachment? aren't we all keeping our space from certain things we love for fear of never wanting to encounter them again when this is all over? we avoid them for now lest we ruin them from the future.
maybe it's that. maybe it's not that i've outgrown her.
i worry that i've outgrown her, but then i also know that if someone dropped a publishing contract on my desk tomorrow, i'd be ALL IN. so it's probably not that. it's probably defensive. it'll probably be ok.