When my friend’s son (ok, it was Amy’s son) leapt for an interception and landed in the ER, I headed out to lend moral support. Honestly, it was as much for me, to hug Amy and all her kids, and see if I could help. Here’s the rub…it was the local hospital where I spent my career. A little more than half my lifetime so far.
What was a national tragedy 20 years ago is another weekend in America in 2019. Schools, churches, nightclubs, outdoor festivals, stores. Bodies fallen in the midst of everyday activities; blood splattered in formerly safe spaces. Do any safe spaces remain?
Why do I like to picture myself as tall and why do I perceive that as “better”? What part of my personality reflects a tall image? Perhaps it’s about the clothes (yes). Perhaps it’s about the sense of self I perceive tall women possessing - presence, confidence, authority.
Sometimes I rail against the unfairness of it. Why me? Yet the question remains unanswered, the feeling, unproductive. My choice is to carve some meaning out of what is too far past to change.
Fifty is not such a big number, at least when talking about dollars or books or even sit-ups. But in terms of years in a lifetime, it takes on greater significance.