We were watching The Year of Magical Thinking on West 45th. Vanessa Redgrave as Joan Didion (sort of) was talking about her daughter Quintana, who was in an induced coma. I had always told her I’d keep her safe, she repeated. Safe. It was a thread running through the whole play: she kept the home fire burning, she had it under control, she would make them live, her dead husband and her gravely ill daughter, through the force of her will and her persistence—they would be safe.
I sat in my theater seat. Your safety isn’t the same as mine, I thought. Continue reading