Keeping your community covered. We're committed to producing high-quality, fact-based news and information that gives you the facts in this community we call home. If our work has helped you stay informed, take action, or feel more connected to Windham County – please give now to help us reach our goal of raising $150,000 by December 31st.
Keeping your community covered. We're committed to producing high-quality, fact-based news and information that gives you the facts in this community we call home. If our work has helped you stay informed, take action, or feel more connected to Windham County – please give now to help us reach our goal of raising $150,000 by December 31st.
I remember seeing my friend David crossing a busy intersection with Oliver, my 2-year-old son, in his arms. I watched as Oliver relaxed, eased into the embrace, and lay his head on David's shoulder - I watched as pure joy spread across David's face and enlivened his step.
This was a month or so before the Academy Awards, 2006. David and I dressed up for the awards, he in a tux, me in black and glitter. We drank red wine out of tiny hand-blown tumblers and laughed uproariously.
That Friday, the one after the awards and the wine, was the day when we could not buoy David's spirits, no smile crossed his lips, every memory of his was a regret, a highlighted misstep. His wife, my husband, and I could not break through the depression that was quickly engulfing David's life.
David became a regular visitor; he seemed to be calmed by the bustle of a house inhabited by a 5-year-old, a 2-year-old, a wacky stay-at-home mom (that's me), an eccentric artist, and two cats. Shortly after the Unbuoyable Friday, David asked me if he could move in with us until he could figure out his next move.
