The math meetings are winding down, and I'll be heading home soon. I've gotten some hard-to-hear news recently. One of my good friends who has been battling cancer went back into the hospital two weeks ago; she went into hospice yesterday. And I am too, too far away.
Like the people in Auden's haunting poem, I am eating or opening a window or just walking dully along. There are committee reports to write and meetings to attend. I am surrounded by a different set of friends and colleagues, and I am really grateful to have the chance to be with them -- these mathematicians are who I am, my tribe, my people. But I'm straddling two worlds. Later tonight I will get on the train that takes me home. I haven't hugged my boys since Tuesday, and I haven't kissed my husband in just as long.
Like the people in Auden's haunting poem, I am eating or opening a window or just walking dully along. There are committee reports to write and meetings to attend. I am surrounded by a different set of friends and colleagues, and I am really grateful to have the chance to be with them -- these mathematicians are who I am, my tribe, my people. But I'm straddling two worlds. Later tonight I will get on the train that takes me home. I haven't hugged my boys since Tuesday, and I haven't kissed my husband in just as long.
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