Gratitude

On Monday I came home from work to have dinner with Hubby. He greeted me at the door; then he asked if I had heard about the Boston Marathon. I thought he was going to tell me a human interest story. You know, something like "they had to stop the race to round up a troop of kangaroos that had escaped from the zoo". 

I can't tell you how much I wish that had been the case. 

Because I had to go back and cope with the realities of my job, I didn't want to watch the news. (Thankfully, Monday night was relatively quiet. We didn't have to call emergency services until yesterday afternoon.) It was Tuesday morning before I saw reports of the explosions.

The CBC showed the same video several times while we watched. I felt numb. Then sick. It wasn't until about the third showing of the clip that I noticed details. Smoke. Canadian flag. Runner hitting the ground. Runner covering his ears. Yellow vests. Lots of yellow vests. Uniformed people in yellow vests running toward the smoke and the chaos.

I think that was the moment I started to feel sadness. Maybe it's because of recent experiences with our local emergency personnel, but the sight of those brave people running toward the explosion opened my heart to the tragedy of what happened.  

So in the midst of the horror, sorrow and anger that washes over me each time I hear more about the explosions in Boston, I feel gratitude. I'm grateful that there are people who choose to run toward the smoke.  Thank you to the women and men who are there for us in all our emergencies.