Friday, October 12, 2007

Incoming ... Outgoing

Jack Bauer and I were have a pleasant little conversation yesterday about this and that, how he is settling in, getting to know people, yada, yada, yada. A couple minutes of nothing (which is normal for us), then ...

Jack: We just had quite the rocket attack.

BW: Right there? Hmmm. ... [Time passes] So you aren't going to tell me more about that? When did it happen?

Jack: Just now. Less than 5 minutes ago.

BW: How much? How far from you?

Jack: Not sure how far, a couple sounded close. ...

BW: Was that scary?

Jack: Nah - it happens so fast. I thought the first one was a slammed door.

BW: So kinda like when you just miss car accident?

Jack: Yes, if it is going to hit the hooch, there is nothing I can do.

BW: Right. Well I am glad you are alive and uninjured.

The conversation continued. I asked him if he was going to tell a friend of ours who I saw was online at the same time. Jack said no, that he had become so used to it by now that it just makes him want to get in bed, like a heavy rainstorm. The conversation continued.

BW: Oh geez. What a crazy world we live in. Those is some big rain drops. They hurt when they hit you. You know I am going to have to do a post on this conversation.

Jack: OK. LOL.

BW: It's too fucked not to. ... I mean really, how messed up is it to think that incoming rockets are like a heavy rainstorm or for me to ask if you were scared. I think you and I have gotten used to this concept of danger, but most people aren't.

Jack: True, true.

BW: That's not normal.

Jack: It's a little scary afterwards to think, "fuck that could have come right here." ... Then my thoughts are like, "at least let me live to go home. Don't let me be blind or horribly burned."

Then the conversation turned to what we would do, how we would handle such a "whatif" injury. He apologized thinking he was upsetting me. I responded.

BW: Actually, I am kinda surprised that this isn't upsetting me. I totally understand having those thoughts.

We chatted for a few more minutes, said our "I love yous" and "Good-byes." Then we parted and he was offline.

I went about my workday. For about a half hour. Then it slowly crept over me. The implications of what had happened. How close to danger he real is, even in this "safer" place. He is still at war. The tears began to well up, but I had a meeting in a few minutes and I just didn't have time to deal with it. So, I typical BW fashion, I stifled my cry, "I'll have a good cry when I get home."

But I never did have that good cry. Instead, I wrote this entry. A release through the fingers, instead of the eyes.