Has it been a month already? A month since the unthinkable happened? A month since my life, and yours, and his, and hers, and all of ours, changed irrevocably. A month since the sky opened and the inconceivable occurred, but truly, it wasn’t improbable.
People have been forecasting this for years, decades, centuries. The only surprising thing is how long it took.
A month ago, we were happy to be clueless and unaware. How naïve of us. How stupid when you come right down to it. Back then, if someone suggested this would happen, most of us would say. “That’s unlikely.”
Where was I when it happened? Oh, in the middle of a trite chore, just like millions of us. I had just left the grocery store where I was picking up a “crucial” ingredient; ha, the things that seemed crucial, a month ago. What was it? I’m trying to remember, because these last 30 days have been so exceptional that chores, vacation plans, and work worries are so trite now.
Spinach, oh yes, that’s what it was. I’d decided to make my “famous” spinach lasagna, a favorite amongst my family, particularly the grandkids. What? Yes, I have grandkids. Well, I did. No, you’re right, hopefully I still do.
I’m sorry, the tears don’t seem to be able to stop. Let me breathe a few minutes. In. Out. In. Out. Oh, for the days of spinach lasagna. And hugs from Stacey, my little 3-year-old granddaughter and Matthew, the “baby” of the family at 8 months. WHERE ARE THEY NOW? WHERE?
Yes, I’m getting hysterical. Damn right. Why aren’t you? Where are your kids? What, I can’t hear you. You’re whispering. Oh, no, of course, I’m sorry. They were 8 and 10? No, no, no, you’re right, your kids are still 8 and 10.
Come, let me help you. Sit down on the stoop here. I know, I understand, you’re a journalist and you’re trying to report on the events of the last month. But how can we write about it, read about it, when we’re in the middle of this unfathomable horror?
Yes, like you, I want to believe that there’s hope. The things that came down from the sky, or, as you say, in those out-of-this world flying machines, those things did communicate with us. And they communicated soundlessly, all of us hearing the same thing in our heads.
“We’re here to save your children. From yourselves.”
And now we are child-free on Earth.
What do you think?
I rarely write dystopian fiction, yet my writing hand reacted to recent horrors in our world. On a happier note, Miss Muffet and her family (https://roughwighting.net/2022/05/06/the-rewards-of-a-simple-life/) have just emptied the nest. What a gift, to watch that family grow from eggs to scrawny hatchlings to beings who flew on (two wings) and a prayer into the Universe. May all our young do so.