I can’t really clap about this one.
Chills still running through me.
As I started the piece, I hadn’t noticed a byline.
As I reached the summary horizon, the realization came:
“Oh. Of course. It’s you, Umair.”
Not that I’ve read so much of what you’ve shared with us.
What I have seen, connected me to you, the unknown you, the ‘becoming known’ you. Searched your name, found you well-known in the world, learned, prolific, fingers in many pots, spirit sprawled in myriad spaces.
You are younger than I imagined. This piece both belies and reveals that youth, and supports every premise.
I have three in their early twenties. Often I ache for knowing what they will never have, exactly all the gifts of youth you aptly name, gifts on which I regularly rely for sustenance; daily I fear the continuing onslaught of debilitating example behaviors and events serving to further undermine a hope of…hope.
I worry, too. I sit paralyzed, full of words, cavern in my gut, helpless to guide.
