Found

Working in my Lompico home, sorting through editions of the local newspaper, the Press-Banner, for the recyle bin, I pick up one folded edition and get an overwhelming urge not to throw it away.  I unfold it and the headline, from September 2006, says, "Mother-To-Be Found Slain."  There is a big color picture on the cover of the memorial altar which was set up for Asha after she disappeared, which was added to after her body was found.  How loved this young woman was!  I never keep editions of any paper this long and wonder how I managed to hold onto it for this many years without it departing into the recycle.  Perhaps its discovery is Asha once again kicking my butt to keep moving on her story.  I was so angry to see a miniscule article in the paper about it, as if murders of expectant mothers happen every day around here, and as usual, nothing really significant about Asha herself, as if her life and who she really was, did not matter enough for the editors of the paper to take time to find out.  Most of the time, the coverage was about the perpetrator and his family, including extended family such as nieces and nephews. 

Which I do: I handwrite it now as Thistle plays with her friends after school  I feel better about doing this now that there is a different yard duty: the previous one cast rather baleful glances in my direction when I wrote in my notebook, and I always had a sense that she thought I was taking notes on her.

So, last night I put the paper on my desk, went outside as usual, turned off all the house lights and sat listening to the wind in the trees and the owls scratching around in their nest (they are really nesting that close: one can also hear them eating and picking apart their prey).  I thanked Asha for the reminder that hers is an important story and that her life mattered.  These are good things to keep foremost as I move forward, slowly by slowly.