It's back to work Monday morning, and I realize that I've not so much as spoken to a black brother or sister since I left. From dealing with my parents' house with my sisters in Windermere, to our visit to R.'s aunt & uncle among the retirees of Clearwater, to my attendance at a 60th birthday party today in a crowd of boomer hippies, I have been in a wholly white world, like a missionary home from the tropics.
It reminds me of the time we passed through Boulder, Colorado in 1981, and were uncomfortable with its unalloyed whiteness. It will be good to return to the company of my African-American friends at the library. I have missed them.