I would jump in front of a truck to save my daughter. I would take a bullet for her. I would dive below the ice to pull her free. But I can't. I can't tie a bath towel around my neck, fly in and snatch her off the tracks. I can't kick in the door, my .45 shooting flames, taking down the bad guys. I can't clip the wire (is it the red one or the green one?) and disable the bomb.
All I can do is watch and wonder where this driverless bus is taking us, knowing I can't see anything beyond the headlights. And so I work and try not to look past today. I am not a worrier. My wife does enough worrying for all of us.
But I do wish there was something I could do other than sit here waiting for the roof to fall in.
Because I can hear the rafters beginning to give way.
6 comments:
Oh David, I'm so sorry. Know that you continue to be in all our thoughts. Take care.
Still? Damn.
My offer stands. Anything you need, bro.
As a father myself, I can only imagine what you're going through.
I'm thinking about all of you. Hang in there.
There aren't words that make it better, but you're all in our thoughts and prayers.
I know I'm on the other coast, but if there's anything I can do, let me know.
There's a wall of readership here with good will to support. Points of view fall aside. My wish is the best hopes for your daughter and quiet comfort for your family and you.
Dread
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