August 11, 1968
by Amy
I keep forgetting that it's Sunday. All the days have blended in. Part of me is so very excited about the next few weeks. I can't wait until we are all together, all of our voices saying the same thing: NO MORE! NO LONGER!
I can't wait until I'm back in the crowd. I can't wait to meet people who will be in the streets for the first time. I can't wait to wake people up and shake them to their very bones.
Right now, there's such a feeling of unity at the office. We're all on the same page, which is so unusual. Lesley, Bea and I meet in the bathroom to talk about how tired we are, and how our feet hurt. Our conversations are punctured with notes to each other: Did you call Tom about marshal training? Have you talked to Little Toe; She left a message? Then it's back to trying to figure out when we're going to take showers.
Coleman has been absent from all this planning. He's out on a story. Or he's preparing newsletters on how to get to Canada. I'm somewhat disappointed in that. Since all of us are getting along, I thought maybe things would shore up with him as well. But he's missing the boat.
