I'm not superstitious but really folks, I'm grateful to be religious! We prayed this morning before my youngest son pushed out the door before daybreak. My daughter and husband were already gone. The frost on the lawn lay thicker than usual, portending of things to come. Now, six hours later, police choppers hover overhead while the email in-box and the phone issue recorded messages. Both of my children's schools are under lock down until further notice. This isn't the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last. I know my children will come home safe, if not on time. The sky has fallen silent. The phone has yet to ring. The in box shows no action. What news will either bring? --Nothing.
I will be left to wait for news from my children. Sometimes they are aware of these lock downs, sometimes they are not.
Choppers overhead again. Hunting. Will they fly the grid pattern today? I can hear the blade rotation as it flys closer. The search pattern seems to be widening. Will the neighboring elementary join the lock downs? I have no way of knowing for sure. I hear no children at play as I usually do this time of day. The dogs are silent. The chopper moves on. Blast it! My husband should be home by now. He called from the other side of the school. Dogs bark, a sound at the door. Relief, I recognize his voice -- and yet, I'm left without a choice. I must wait.
The phone rings -- my son's school is released from the lock down, but not the high school, golf course - my husbands interest, or the neighboring school. The sky is quiet again yet in the distance I think I hear the chopper. . . yes, it's getting closer. Now further away. Who are they looking for? What have they done? How many schools will be locked down?
An hour passes. the phone rings with an update. There has been a shooting at a local coffee shop, the one my daughter visits after school. The shooter hasn't been apprehended. Officers with AK47's dot the golf course. How long will students be held? Wait.
Eerie silence. The neighborhood looks abandoned. No movement. I check the doors and bring the dogs inside. They lay at my feet, thankful for the warmth.
A knock at the door. A friend arrives. The phone rings. The lock down is lifted. I sigh with relief. My children will be home shortly.
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Celia Yeary is a eighth-generation Texan, and her life revolves around family, friends, and writing. San Marcos has been her home for thirty...
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Where is Your Heart? by: Dorothy R. Crofts http://www.amazon.com/ also available at Barnes and Noble "Dorothy's poetry puts a ne...
3 comments:
Seriously creepy. I hope this is a bit of fiction and not what your day was really like!
Typed it as it happened, didn't have the heart to completely sign off. Turns out there are mixed stories from a drug bust gone bad to a lovers quarrel. Common thread? Someone was shot.
Scary times. The closest I experienced was when I was working at the Family History Center and a police chopper circled overhead telling everyone to go inside and lock their doors which we promptly did. Turns out it was a robber at the Ralphs across the street. Then there was the time I was in a writing chat when our leader typed. "I hear gunshots, gotta go." (She was okay, neighbor's teenager gone amok. Nobody was shot.)
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