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It is very rare that I wake up in the middle of the night for anything other than to use the bathroom. Yet 2:36 AM found me wide-awake eyes staring at the ceiling waiting for the sirens. I�d been slapped out of a dream by a huge whipping sound. I thought that I felt the house groan and I was happy that my home was commiserating with a rocked foundation. I was too afraid to look at the sky and I was even more afraid to look at the ground. I was certain that something else had dropped out of it so I just stared upwards and concentrated on my breathing while waiting for the other shoe to drop. I rationalized that it was taking too long for a response from the proper authorities (Windsor police are above all prompt) so I ventured to my windows and looked out. Beautiful black night sky swirled as far as my eyes could see up and sleepy small town streets sprawled down as far as my eyes could see out. I saw nothing. Nothing. And most importantly nothing like some evidence of war in my very own backyard. I used to tell myself as a child that planes simply do not fall out of the sky� but I do not believe that anymore. And one can never be too cautious. I went outside to inspect my house for proof that I wasn�t imagining it� that I had heard something. And then the sky burst over my head. Lightening sharpened everything and the rain�s relief revealed to me that I had two choices: stand outside in my flip-flops and cry out of embarrassment and/or joy or go back inside and try to sleep. I went inside. I�m not quite sure if I made it as far as sleep. . How Rude! - Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 - 12:16 PM One small step but no giant leap. - Tuesday, Sept. 30, 2003 - 11:17 AM Where's George? - Thursday, Sept. 25, 2003 - 12:48 PM |
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a Nifty design 
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