October 8, 2001

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On Sunday when I was hearing reports about bombs, I was hearing something else, much more precious.

I was hearing several of the little kids in the apartment complex. They were outside playing, on a lovely afternoon. Their major cares were over when it would next be their turn to try out someone's new birthday bike.

They weren't fussing; they were taking turns and having a grand time.

I suspect they were all pretty secure in the knowledge that supper would be ready soon, and that the grownups in their lives would remember to call them in to eat. They probably had no idea anyone was dropping bombs, nor what bombs are anyway.

They definitely had the better portion.