My eyes, glued to the scene. The dust of the debris invaded my nose. My hands wanted to prevent the sounds of the sirens and the cries, but I couldn’t move. 1,700 miles away from Oklahoma City, I was there only by the waves of the TV, but I had walked that place, breathed the same air as those people. “Oh God, no!”
Floors dangled, wires sparked, glass fell. “Did I know, by name or face, anyone in that building?”
Often, I reached for the phone but fear would not let me dial. So I stayed, stared and mesmerized as reality sank in.
Secret struggles plant hidden seeds of anguish and distress that, when never faced with the light, remain grounded in a darkness and spread and infect the rest of our soul. Laughter is to this bruising, as light is to dark; the latter always succumbs to the presence of the former.
Lights flash, people stare, their imagination fills in the story from their 10 second exposure as they drive by the 911 scene. Being in the middle of this reoccurring scenario has made me numb to the onlookers.
A fluttering blink of the eyes reveals morning has remained reliable in breaking up the night. My body denies the truth but manages to transfer it’s achy bones to upright position. What a night! I stagger forward, stopping for a moment at the bay window overlooking the waterfall in the back yard that remains flowing after weary owners failed to turn it off. A few plastic forks remained in the yard since darkness fell on the party way to fast. I sigh.