You walk out the door and nothing pelts you. You don’t need to duck and cover, though you’re still on guard. You take a step, then another. Nothing. You start to breathe a little more easily. You peer cautiously to the left, cautiously to the right. Your breathe in the cool, cool air, squint at the remarkable blue sky, and put your hands deep into your warm pockets. You take your first steps of freedom after the storm.
You notice the cars charging by, the grunting buses, the hurried passerby. And you want to yell across the sidewalk “Hey! This is the first time we’re out in 48 hours! Some storm, huh!” because you suddenly feel kinship with the whole human race. But you quietly continue on your way and wonder at the remarkable change in circumstances within 24 hours--how from one minute to another, you went from isolation, fear and doubt to freedom, gratitude and creeping confidence.
“Why aren’t we all skipping?” you think. “Why aren’t we kissing the ground, high fiving strangers or just plain grinning?”
Another work day. Another school day. Another “normal” day.
Sometimes you wonder what’s wrong with people.