IT WAS COMFORTING TO KNOW that we all shared similar paths in life. Families dead. Opportunities vanished. And nowhere else to turn. This was, of course, nearly universal to all survivors of the Reckoning, but it felt good to talk about it. To share. To be heard and acknowledged. No matter how much worse someone else’s story was from my own—Nora, the granddaughter of American slaves, for example—there was always a gesture of shared sorrow, of empathy.
