A CEO was murdered. The police launched a manhunt and caught the assassin. A mom was denied medicine for her child. The child died. So it goes.
A girl opened fire in a school. She killed two, wounded six. Ms. Barbara's kindergarteners go to school in the morning. So it goes.
A bomb was dropped on tents. A family went in five directions. We go to the movies tonight. Perhaps we'll get popcorn. So it goes.
A police cruiser speeds down the highway. The mother is dying. "Look at the pretty lights," the boy says. He sees a Christmas tree. So it goes.
A man cries in the driver's seat. He was abused. "I need you," she says. He kisses her. This cycles. So it goes.
"$X,000," says the politician. Those dinners could feed families. "At least he's liberal," says the starving mother. So it goes.
The car was burning metal. "It's to remind me of home," he says. Bethlehem was bombed. So it goes.
He played there. 19 dead. His brothers make jokes now. He still pains when he remembers. So it goes.
He was 17. So it goes.
Two nights ago, I dreamt that bombs fell on my home. I was with my family when orange light split the sky and rockets came down. In that moment, I made peace that I would die. Maybe I did so because I thought I couldn't cease to be. I woke from that dream to the incessant vibration of my phone. A friend was calling me, who I ignored last time he did. I let it ring. When I didn't answer, he texted me. Our old friend had died less than an hour before. Isn't it odd how dreams border reality? I often see little difference between life’s two dimensions of the body and the spirit. For a time, I understood them as the same. For my fore-bearers, there was only the body. One moment you’re here, the next you’re gone to the grave. I think that’s why we bury bodies instead of spreading ash. It may be a sign of resurrective hope, but I think a part of us doesn’t want to let them go. When I visited my uncle’s grave a couple times ago, I felt a sense of loss. I was home and thought it tim...