It’s a cold Sunday afternoon, two days after Paris. Two days after tragedy and the news is still reporting on everything
“the attack is an act of war by isis terrorist army” says French President Francoise Hollande…. “cities around the world are lit up with French flag colors” says another news station. “the death toll is now at 132” says an online news service.
We are tuned in and plugged in to any new detail. Twitter, Facebook, CNN, Foxnews….. Check the updates. Stare in horror. Try not to cry.
And yet life seems so ordinary as pans of jars are on the stove chattering away awaiting being canned with something. It’s fall, it’s Sunday, it’s a normal day. But it’s not a normal day. It’s normal for us so far from tragedy. It’s normal for this time of year. But everything has changed.
Had you asked me to sit quietly and observe for twenty minutes two days ago, I might have come up with something terribly different. And I can’t think of anything else that would affect me like coming home on Friday afternoon from an ordinary day out, shopping for pants, to seeing Paris. Paris in chaos…
Paris, my dream place. My one destination that I have dreamed about visiting since I was about 12. I dream in French sometimes. And it is the one place I have hoped to visit.
Life is kind of ordinary right now as a Fast and Furious movie is on tv, my sister is banging boards and pans as she works on the dishes, and the kitchen is cluttered and full of vegetables and pans for the canning. It’s noisy. It’s quiet. It’s just home.
Nothing terribly exciting ever happens around here, not that I mind it much. I like being home. I like the quiet chaos of a home. I mean, when I say it’s quiet, I mean compared to cars and trucks and the endless beeping of the backhoes as they put in new water pipes for the town, Monday through Friday, 7am to 4pm. Right now it is relatively quiet. Though I could probably do without the noise of the movie on. You don’t realize how loud a film is until you are in the other room trying to concentrated.
Home is safe. So for those where home is safe…. What is Paris now to those that call it home? Is it safe? Is it even home? How does one go on in life when a tragedy has hit very close to home. For some, right next door. For the man that helped people off the roof of the Bataclan as terrorists shot people below. So close to home how do you walk outside and even breathe? How does one go on?
I have never been in the middle of a tragedy, nor do I ever want to be. So I can’t understand. I see it from a distance. Roseberg, Oregon and the shooting there a month ago was as close to a tragedy as I can think I have ever been. Everything else is far away. It makes you feel a little distant, literally and figuratively , when you think about it.
What is it like to have it a part of your life? I hope I never find out as I live an ordinary life and pray for those who have lost loved ones…….. And I pray for those in Paris……