My goodness, what a week: Bombings, car chases and gunfire, police and military on my street, and a terrorist in custody just down the street at the community hospital. And nothing organic, sustainable, farm to table, local, or home cooked about it. And please: Don’t bring up the pressure cookers because it only makes you sound foolish.
That morning when the lock down took place was remarkable: Sort of Harry Belafonte-ish in the movie when the world ends. I went to work and saw patients on locked psychiatric units and understood more deeply than ever the appeal of being locked in.
When the suspect was caught, relief was evident, but also an aching sadness since no one who had been murdered would be coming back to life, it wasn’t a fairy tale.
All that said, I found myself ravenously hungry all week.