I remember when I ignored the news, thinking none of the problems going on were so horrific that I needed to pay attention .. thinking that I was just tired of how bad things were and I really didn't want to hear about it anymore. Thinking, because I suppose I really am that self-absorbed, that it didn't affect me, and I just didn't want to know. Thinking that I could pull up the covers and pretend it wasn't there, like the boogie man that hid in my closet, it wasn't really there, it wasn't really a threat, just close my eyes and go to sleep and in the morning the light would restore my peace of mind and I would go on, as always.

Thinking that sure, bad things happen, but seriously, this is America and how bad could things possibly get?

Right. Right?

So this weekend I have been wrapped up (once again) in my own life, and my future, and my activities that need to be taken care of. And I've been studying and planning and organizing and thinking things through ... and trying to act as if everything is back to normal and it's all going to be okay.

And then Matt sent me this link and I read half of it and I cried ... and I read the rest of it and I cried some more and I thought ... why? Why do these things happen? Why is life so unsure?

The problems in my own life feel so minute, so utterly ridiculous now. And I watch the news and read the news and listen to the news and talk to friends and people at work and listen to the fears and then I read my favorite blogs and I watch some people disappear and others close down and still more pour out their hearts and time seems to stand still, and I'm reminded of watching a glass drop to the floor, tipping over and slowing down before it meets the ground with jarring reality, shattering as shards of glass scatter and jump hop slide across the floor, until they stop and rest there, pieces of the whole so broken and disjointed that there is no hope for repair ... just a mess to clean up.

And I really, really want to be able to know that this is just one of those things we rebound from and life goes on, but I don't feel that way just now.

Last Thursday night, as I was driving to meet Randy, I noticed the curve of the highway and the lights spread out on the landscape and even the way the last rays of light from the setting sun seemed to be asking not to leave yet as the sun sank behind the hills of this small town I call home ... and I realized for the first time that I take everything for granted. Everything.

And now, when a plane passes overhead, it sounds too loud and too close and too scary and I wish I didn't feel that way but I do.

I think I am experiencing the worst case of delayed reaction in my life.

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