Usually, its just white noise, but not tonight. Moose dying...Every morning I wake, I think of the suffering I have caused you...Ford recalls… I shuffle in my seat, just waiting for more. A flood of bad.
“I don’t know why I am listening.” I tell my husband. I can’t help it. "Turn it off," I say. "There's nothing but bad news in the world. How can she report all this bad news night after night?"
All’s quiet or nearly so. I hear the click of Rex’s toes on the hardwood floor. He hops on the couch. His bell jingles. Dishes touch. Silverware entangles. The dishwasher is loaded and emptied by my daughter. (Bless her.) My son Jamin shuffles out the door, turns around to say, “I’m going to David’s. See you later. I love you.” (Bless him.)
Bombarded by newsfeeds and soundbites, I often wallow in grief. My stomach twists in compassion for those suffering. The news is depressing, there is no other way to describe it. Conflicted, I want to be informed, but it is hard to remain positive sometimes.
Presently, it is dark-just before 8 pm, but from inside the house I hear the distinct call of the timberdoodle. “Zheeet. Zheeet. Zheeet.” Just think, I almost missed this. I've had it with bad news.