Friday, September 11

The World Stopped Turning

My daughter is sitting behind me tugging my hair out of my head combing my hair. It's kind of a nice feeling when she's not yanking it out by the roots. I can feel her warm legs pressed against my back and her small hands on my shoulders. I can hear her uneven, stuffy nosed breathing. Now and then she pauses to watch Dora on TV.

My son is it school, firmly against his will, learning. At some point he will eat lunch that we packed, food we bought at the store without a second thought. And he will play outside beneath a big blue sky dotted with clouds.

My husband is in the other room, working. Earning the money that drives our family forward. Earning our roof, our car, our food, our cable TV, our gas (producing some of his own while he's at it, I'm sure), our electricity. Soon, I will turn on the AC to keep the house from getting stuffy.

Later our boy cousins are coming over to play while their parents go to a concert for my sister-in-laws birthday. We'll have dinner and probably start a fire in the pit outside. We'll put them to bed, a little colony on Josh's bedroom floor, and somehow I doubt they'll sleep for a while.

In the morning we'll wake up safe, sound, secure. And we won't even have to think about how we got that way.

That is freedom.

Never forget.

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