Notes from a Train Station Waiting Room

Agent Danger

My grandfather died. So I visited my extended family’s nerve center in the suburban mid-Atlantic.

There are many details of this visit I want to remember. Like how my grandmother told us all our favorite stories from our more distant ancestral homeland down south: true gothic southern tales of graveyards, mental hospital escapees, and Morgan’s Raiders. Playing bridge: and realizing the game had changed forever for my granny, who had lost her lifelong partner. How we drove around the ruins of a fort and walked against the wind down a beach that had no other footprints. How my grandmother wasn’t quite sure how to pay a restaurant bill with a credit card, having never taken the check herself before. How we went to see a local September 11 memorial for no reason at all, or maybe because we didn’t have a funeral but needed a focal point for grief.


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