Dillinger
Guerrilla Ontologist
- Joined
- Sep 19, 2000
- Posts
- 26,152
It feels strange to use that word today... "Good" But I do anyway... because it is, in it's own way... because I am here to write those words, you are here to read them...
I woke up this morning to the radio - news reports confirming it was not just a nightmare... and my eyes filled with tears. And some hope, because the news also had reports that there may yet be some survivors.
And I started my day... woke my children to get them ready for school. And realized it was a GOOD morning because my children were alive and well.
And found a certain satisfaction in going about the mundane tasks of making tea, breakfast for the kids, getting them packed for school.
The sun shining, the weather brisk we left the house to walk to the bus... picked up the paper at the bottom of the driveway. "TERROR" read the headline and the pictures inside were moving, terrible... destruction, grief stricken faces... and hopeful - articles about people helping in any way they could.
My oldest daughter asked to look at the paper, she is 10. I hesitated for a moment wanting with all my heart to protect her from the world - from even having to know that this kind of thing could happen. Yet she already knew, we watched it on TV - we talked about it. But I wanted to make it not happen.
I let her see the paper. She was excited to see that it was on the first page. Not happy - but how a child would react to something that has and is making an impact on her life and somehow pleased in the knowledge that it was important to other people as well.
We continued on to the bus stop. The youngest children were playing tag without a care in the world... and that was more reassuring than anything I could imagine. So yes, it IS a good morning.
A couple of the older kids gathered around my daughter and looked at the paper... my other daughter, 8 years old... and another boy, also 8. And they talked quietly telling each other what they knew as if they had information to share that others might not know.
The adults stood around more quiet then usual. More of us then usual... most days either the father or mother came to the bus with the children. Today whole families came out. To stand there with their neighbors and watch their children.
We talked quietly - asked of family and friends and almost all of us knew people who worked down in lower Manhattan. Knew people who were there and saw...
Knew people who made it home to their families.
And that made it a good morning.
The bus came... the children left for school. And the adults walked off to their homes and then shortly off to work...
I walked home and read the paper. Tried to nap unsuccessfully and got online. Working from home today.
At work there are messages from the CEO and others... in our emails and on our web pages and our company is helping in every way we can.
Logged on to emails from friends all over the world asking how we were - some people I hadn't heard from in ages who still thought I worked in Manhattan.
It made me feel good to know their concern.
And life goes on.
Good morning, my friends. Good morning, Literotica.
I woke up this morning to the radio - news reports confirming it was not just a nightmare... and my eyes filled with tears. And some hope, because the news also had reports that there may yet be some survivors.
And I started my day... woke my children to get them ready for school. And realized it was a GOOD morning because my children were alive and well.
And found a certain satisfaction in going about the mundane tasks of making tea, breakfast for the kids, getting them packed for school.
The sun shining, the weather brisk we left the house to walk to the bus... picked up the paper at the bottom of the driveway. "TERROR" read the headline and the pictures inside were moving, terrible... destruction, grief stricken faces... and hopeful - articles about people helping in any way they could.
My oldest daughter asked to look at the paper, she is 10. I hesitated for a moment wanting with all my heart to protect her from the world - from even having to know that this kind of thing could happen. Yet she already knew, we watched it on TV - we talked about it. But I wanted to make it not happen.
I let her see the paper. She was excited to see that it was on the first page. Not happy - but how a child would react to something that has and is making an impact on her life and somehow pleased in the knowledge that it was important to other people as well.
We continued on to the bus stop. The youngest children were playing tag without a care in the world... and that was more reassuring than anything I could imagine. So yes, it IS a good morning.
A couple of the older kids gathered around my daughter and looked at the paper... my other daughter, 8 years old... and another boy, also 8. And they talked quietly telling each other what they knew as if they had information to share that others might not know.
The adults stood around more quiet then usual. More of us then usual... most days either the father or mother came to the bus with the children. Today whole families came out. To stand there with their neighbors and watch their children.
We talked quietly - asked of family and friends and almost all of us knew people who worked down in lower Manhattan. Knew people who were there and saw...
Knew people who made it home to their families.
And that made it a good morning.
The bus came... the children left for school. And the adults walked off to their homes and then shortly off to work...
I walked home and read the paper. Tried to nap unsuccessfully and got online. Working from home today.
At work there are messages from the CEO and others... in our emails and on our web pages and our company is helping in every way we can.
Logged on to emails from friends all over the world asking how we were - some people I hadn't heard from in ages who still thought I worked in Manhattan.
It made me feel good to know their concern.
And life goes on.
Good morning, my friends. Good morning, Literotica.
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