I took the family on vacation to the state fair saturday. Not far from the front gate was a tent I had mixed feelings about going into. Still something beckoned me. Something deep inside me said, suck it up and go in cold. As cold as you've ever been. Colder and tougher than I ever had to be. I went in, the wife said she'd wait.
I went in and all was well. For a few minutes at least. I was being pretty tough. I got almost to the end. Then I came to the van. And I read the story about it's driver and how he died. Then I broke and all hell broke loose. As I walked out crying I passed a NYS Trooper on guard duty. He looked at me and looked away. I knew I'd never be tough enough to do the job he was doing.
I walked back around the front to pick up my wife. She had put on her game face and gone in too. I went in to retrieve her. She hadn't made it half way before she broke. I scooper her in my arms and dragged her out the exit. Again the trooper lowered his eyes and looked away.
I thought I had healed. I thought it was just a scar I had. A scar we all share. It wasn't a scar. It was a scab on a wound that will never heal. A scab that got ripped away saturday to remind me. A reminder all too many of us need.