To my friend Sabrina.

I am so sorry about your city. This is the city you love more than any human being on earth. This is the city that makes you happy, that makes you cry, that makes you feel more yourself than any person ever could.

I am so sorry about your house, which I can hope is still standing, but I fear that it isn’t.

I am so sorry for your parents, who have loved that house for as long as you have been alive. I’m sorry for all of your possessions, your pictures, your “treasures”, the things that reminded you of who you are and who you were.

I’m sorry for your friends, who are hopefully safe somewhere. Your friends who are maybe stuck in that dome, with no food, no water, no home.

I’m sorry for your stupid president, who didn’t do what he could when he could, who came back a day too late from vacation, who cut funding to shore up the city you love so much.

I’m sorry for the helplessness we all feel, that part of our country is sinking into the ground and there is no one to blame (except Bush, we can still blame him). There is no war to go to, no one to bomb for the destruction.

And I’m sorry that I have no idea what to say to you. I usually have some piece of advice, something to act on, something to hold on to. And I don’t. I have nothing. I have no advice, no crutch. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if your house or your city is going to be okay, I don’t know any of these things and I can’t tell you that it is going to be okay.

All I can tell you is that I understand loving a place so much it hurts. I understand your connection, your love for that city. I understand that the only thing you can do now is to be strong for your family, for your city. That the second they let you back there, you go and help as much as you can, carrying buckets of water away if necessary. I understand you more than I understand myself. And I love you. And I love your city, if only because I see it through your eyes and love it with the power of your heart.

My friend.