It’s hard to explain the feeling that I had in pre-consciousness. I guess the noise woke me. I was in that twilight, still-dreaming yet aware of something… ? scary, it seemed to be above my head, just beyond the ceiling then roof, beating, beating down chuff-chuff-chuff-chuff.
I reach out for Sweety’s hand, he murmurs something under the covers. "what…is it? " I ask. “helicopter. They’re just practicing”. “practicing for what?” I grump to my self. For chrissake, it’s 3 a.m. and we’re being buzzed by helicopters ?? Then an uneasiness came over me, stays with me, even after the helicopter is gone. I begin to think about what it would be like to be on the ground in a country under siege. What it would feel like to be constantly afraid, of losing your children, your spouse, your parents to warfare. I can’t go back to sleep. Sweety snores on blissfully.
I think about what Lib posted a few days ago. I think he’s right. Sadly, I agree with him; we are not really property owners, we are serfs. We don’t have control over our property. We can’t prevent the army from flying helicopters over our homes. I’ve been seeing a lot of helicopters lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s the ARNG training for the war buildup; their base is close by.
I get up, dress, put on my knit cap, scarf, & coat. Step outside (carefully locking the door). It’s about 25 degrees, the air is cold, crystalline, sharp prickling to my face. I crank my car, pull out along the gravel driveway. I’m depressed. I’m thinking of the wars across the world, of the people lost, disconnected, torn out of loved one’s arms, lives. I’m cold. I stop the car at the traffic signal, ghostly in the stillness of pre-dawn. I stare at the asphalt. It is sparkly in places with shards of broken glass. I begin to cry. Splinters, splinters. It’s all … splinters.
‘First they came for the Communists, but I was not a Communist, so I said nothing. Then they came for the Social Democrats, but I was not a Social Democrat, so I did nothing. Then came the trade unionists, but I was not a trade unionist. And then they came for the Jews, but I was not a Jew, so I did little. Then when they came for me, there was no one left to stand up for me.’