A writer’s life is never dull. If she but only pays attention, there’s material right outside her door. Take yesterday, for instance. Yesterday, I’m working along, in my own little world, when I decide to take a break and stroll out to get the mail. I made it two steps out the door when I noticed something seemed to be amiss …
In case you’re not into the likes of CSI, that would be crime scene tape running from the mailboxes to our neighbors lovely chain link fence. It was only then I noticed the lights of a police car flashing in our neighbor’s window and the News van.
At first glance, I hoped it was a house raid … where they would find a back room full of stolen goods–our metal “welcome” sign, included–awaiting sale on ebay, a side business to their drug trade, naturally. I imagine the lady down the street, the one who taped her cardboard diatribe on “thieves among us” to the Stop sign, was hoping her solar lights and gazing ball would be there too. It would be a good day for the good guys.
Just when I was preparing to print out my PRESS credentials and head out with tape recorder and notebook in hand, they packed up and called it a day. I had to wait for the news, like the rest of the world. And that means a whole afternoon swept by and I was completely oblivious to the fact that a body had been found in a vacant lot down the way, or that my street had been shut down while police investigated the scene.
While official reports have yet to come in, it seems it was an unfortunate mountain biking accident. Considering yesterday’s post, that’s what us literary types call irony.
I can almost hear my mom gasp right there … with visions of Castle‘s insensitivity coming to mind. Just stating the facts, ma’am … just stating the facts.
Here’s another fact–for loved ones, freak accidents seem to be all the harder. With sickness, you can do what you can–you can, at the very least, try to prepare. But when something hits you out of the blue, it knocks the air from you. Seems it takes a bit longer to recover; it takes a bit longer to rid yourself of those incessant questions.
So yes, all craziness aside, I can’t quite rid myself of people I don’t even know. I’m sending prayers their way. If you wouldn’t mind, perhaps you could send a few as well…