Like most Americans, I remember exactly where I was on Tuesday, September 11, 2001. I was healing from a very recent abortion. It was early in the morning at the suburban apartment complex where I slept in my boyfriend’s bedroom, a room with walls covered in his drawings and artwork, multi-colored Christmas lights strung across the tops of the walls, th…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The Process Project ✨ to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.