Life and Anniversaries

15 years married. "Endurance," was my spouse's word for why. "Chemistry" was mine. We should add "love," "commitments" or, as co-workers have suggested, "resignation."

15 years ago Saddam invaded Kuwait, and my bride emerged from the bathroom to me fiddling with the radio above our bed instead of attentive to her. Since then there have been so many stories on the news of death and horror. The Gulf War, the Oslo accord and its bloody demise, WTC, then more planes, the WTC again and finally, and a war against stinging gnats.

So when I saw the news flash and the first images from the plane crash-landed in Toronto, my heart took it's well-beaten path down to my stomach. Flames meters from a highway. People watching, helpless, on the shoulders. Rain, smoke, flashing lights at too far a distance. MSNBC was quick to bring up the appropriate graphic of just how many people probably died.

I cried, called friends and co-workers to share the news of how there were no casualties. It felt so good to share in the cameraderie of joy instead of fear, elation instead of horror. In the belief that we can have good luck, instead of a harrowing procession of tragedies and deaths.

Today I have reason to smile. 309 plus 15.