We're heading off to Nebraska for a wedding soon, so for once someone else will be staring at their buddies screen on the weekend, waiting for a name to turn red. (For those of you non-Dlanders (and I know who some of you are...), Andrew's system allows members to list up to 30 favorite diaries, and the buddies page shows you which of those diaries have updated since you last logged in. In nice red letters. Saves time on checking diaries that haven't updated, and keeps your mailbox from filling up with notify messages every day.)

This is not a diary entry, however. This is a thank you letter to those of you who left guestbook messages or sent emails regarding one of my entries last weekend. So...

Thank you.

I wrote that entry because I had to, but I felt really uneasy posting it. First, because none of the events involved me or anyone I knew. And secondly, because I knew that sort of trauma is all too real for some of you.

More than I suspected, I find from your messages.

Thanks for letting me know it was okay to share my comparatively distant feelings.

I've read and reread that entry a few more times myself, and it still bothers me. And now I know why.

I know a woman who was raped. Date rape, not violence from a stranger, but rape just the same. I remember how angry I was with her when I found out she refuses to drive down the street where he lived. I wanted to scream at her.

"Don't let the bastard win!"

Because every time she changes her life to avoid him, or some memory of him, he is still raping her. He and his violent act are still controlling her life.

He wins.

And now I see I have been letting the same thing happen to me. Fremont Canyon was a special place to me, and I let the bastards take it away. A minor loss compared to what they did to their victims and their families, true, but they took it just the same.

I let them take it.

And now I'm going to take it back.

Sometime in the next month or so my work will take me down that canyon again. Across that bridge. And I will stop as usual. And I will remember the acts of violence that occurred there, and the ultimate consequence. And I will be saddened.

But I will also look at the peaceful river. I will see if the falcons are still there and I'll listen to the swallows chirping below me. I'll let the heelers chase the rabbit around the outhouse.

I'll bomb the fish again.

And I promise, I will never again drive around to the lower bridge just to avoid this one.

Have a good weekend.