I'm a week into January feeling the most reflective I ever have. All the thought provoking songs coming to mind in a stream... The ones that pull at the heart, the ones that make you wonder how long winter will last, when summer will return.

I picture Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath in dark print dresses, having tea on cold iron patio furniture, in a misting rain, under a cement colored November sky. Until their hair hangs in dripping strands and their faces shine wet. Talking about end times.

But only theirs.

Serve and Protect

Maybe you found this site through The Radical Write. If not, you may want to check out the March 3rd post about the police car that sped in front of us lights flashing and stopped. See post here.

Its funny how everything you've been trained to do shifts into autopilot in moments like that. I was so freaked by the idea that the cop was getting into his trunk (for a shotgun to shoot us, I thought) that I could not move.

Even though we live in a relatively sleepy village, we get a lot of cops screaming by with and without sirens, along with a few paramedics and the occasional firetruck. It's been said that we live near a drug highway. I don't know what percentage of cruisers are going for the drug runners, if any.

The policeman who raced in front of us March 1st puts his life at risk every day, and he was doing for us what he's do for anyone.

For me, it embodied a man laying down his life for the protection of someone else. Fortunately no one was hurt in that instance. I will be forever affected by his actions.

I still get choked up thinking, He didn't even know us.