Goreth and Odette

My father and sister just left. It’s been busy at work, at home. The wind blows on the first sunny day in a while, in maybe a week. I don’t know. I lose track, these frantic days at the end of the term. There is much to do, and what I really want is to sit an breathe.

I read blogs for a little while. One blog leads to another. I rarely have the luxury to move beyond the blogs I read regularly, but today I find this one. I buy a book, donate some money, and think of my Rwandan student. Yesterday was the last day of class. I wonder if she’ll stay in touch, or if she’ll disappear. I’ll never forget her. She wrote of surviving the genocide. She is serious, kind, and when she smiles, we all smile back. “Yes,” she says, and the word is a resounding testimony to her spirit, to the spirit of all those who have survived.