Mad Scientess Jane Expat
At 23:59 today, when my train pulled into Cambridge station, I remembered that on 7 September nine years ago, my grandfather died. Four days later, the day I was supposed to fly home to San Diego, four planes were hijacked and flown into targets on the east coast of the US and we're all still suffering the consequences of the pointless cycle of vengeance that unleashed.
I spent the afternoon in Wolverhampton, talking about space exploration to a small but rapt audience. I pick up my parents from the airport tomorrow. Past and present, memory and sense are chafing against one another uncomfortably in my mind.