I woke up to snuggles from my babies, sunshine peeking through the window casting light on their little faces in a way that made me take a slower breath to experience the moment longer. I got up, put on a sweatshirt and sunglasses, and drove to Starbucks while Pancho started breakfast for the kids. I drove with the windows down, it was already 60 degrees at 9am. Memorial Day patriotism filled the car and I sang my little country heart out while I waited in line for my double shot of espresso over ice. I pulled out of the driveway, took a sip, and breathed in another slow breath. I was consciously aware of how happy I felt. I have so much in life to be grateful for and I felt it so deeply this morning.
I was on my way home when I heard a siren. All the lights turned red as the noise got closer. Cars already in the intersection quickly pulled through and slowed to a stop in a neat line by the curb. Everything was still as a bright red fire truck sped through, lights flashing, siren blaring. I felt the tears start. They well up every time I see a fire truck. I know, it's weird.
It wasn't until we moved back from India that this started. My emotions are complex (I'm sure you're smiling and nodding if you know me). We really didn't live in India that long and I haven't traveled that much relative to the size of the world. The places I haven't been far out number the places I have yet my awareness of my privilege is significant.
Today it was the siren, the truck, the way the cars pulled over, the understanding look drivers flashed as they move aside, the country music, and the overwhelming gratitude I felt before I even arrived at that intersection this Memorial Day morning.
We have a system in America by which anyone can call 9-1-1 and something will happen. Someone will come. Not only will someone come but the people who come have been trained to save your life, to save your home, to rescue whomever or whatever needs rescuing. When they come, they have trucks with equipment and unexpired medicine they know how to use. Cars pull over when they hear sirens. Even on packed freeways, cars inch their way to the edge to make room for emergency personnel to pass. It's not like this everywhere.
In India, they are short on paramedics. You can call the equivalent of 9-1-1 but you're better off driving yourself or jumping in a rickshaw. The ambulance will eventually come but there is no guarantee the people inside know anything about medicine. Depending on traffic it could take hours to get to you and hours to then get you to a hospital--no one pulls over when they hear those sirens and they'll honk back, annoyed, when the emergency vehicle violates the rules of the road.
There are no fire hydrants. If there is a fire, a water truck will eventually come but hopefully you kept the fire at bay with your bucket of sand that sits in place of an extinguisher. Maybe your neighbors brought their buckets to help you. Maybe you live in the slums and that fire spread so quickly it destroyed yours, and 500 of your neighbors homes in a matter of an hour.
As a parent of a then 2-year old, I couldn't imagine the helplessness felt by parents who relied on that system to help when their baby was hurt. Parents who likely didn't know that it could be different. I've been fortunate to experience both worlds and I know that. America is not perfect and there are underserved regions of our country that experience our system differently. But, the difference between having a system and not is stark and I am grateful every moment for the systems we have in America. Even the ones that still need work. Because we also have a system for fixing systems.
So, when I hear the sirens and see the truck, a rush of emotions come. And they're complex but the crux is the gratitude I have for every second I enjoy the benefits of life in my home country--benefits of systems as simple as firetrucks and paramedics. Having these thoughts today brought some extra tears as I thought more deeply of all the Americans who have lost their lives in pursuit of our country's safety and freedom. The men and women who have sacrificed so I can count on that ambulance to come, to bring a paramedic, and to take my children to a clean emergency room.
I'm not looking to analyze the benefits or shortcomings of our system (not in this post at least), rather only to recognize the difference between having a system and not. And, the cost of creating and protecting that system. Thank you to those who never came home, who died in service to give me the very things that make my tears well up each time I hear those sirens.
My husband, family members, and dear friends served our country...and they came home. Today, my heart remembers those who didn't and I wish nothing more than for them, and their families, to know how much gratitude I feel for their contributions to this world.
I was on my way home when I heard a siren. All the lights turned red as the noise got closer. Cars already in the intersection quickly pulled through and slowed to a stop in a neat line by the curb. Everything was still as a bright red fire truck sped through, lights flashing, siren blaring. I felt the tears start. They well up every time I see a fire truck. I know, it's weird.
It wasn't until we moved back from India that this started. My emotions are complex (I'm sure you're smiling and nodding if you know me). We really didn't live in India that long and I haven't traveled that much relative to the size of the world. The places I haven't been far out number the places I have yet my awareness of my privilege is significant.
Today it was the siren, the truck, the way the cars pulled over, the understanding look drivers flashed as they move aside, the country music, and the overwhelming gratitude I felt before I even arrived at that intersection this Memorial Day morning.
We have a system in America by which anyone can call 9-1-1 and something will happen. Someone will come. Not only will someone come but the people who come have been trained to save your life, to save your home, to rescue whomever or whatever needs rescuing. When they come, they have trucks with equipment and unexpired medicine they know how to use. Cars pull over when they hear sirens. Even on packed freeways, cars inch their way to the edge to make room for emergency personnel to pass. It's not like this everywhere.
In India, they are short on paramedics. You can call the equivalent of 9-1-1 but you're better off driving yourself or jumping in a rickshaw. The ambulance will eventually come but there is no guarantee the people inside know anything about medicine. Depending on traffic it could take hours to get to you and hours to then get you to a hospital--no one pulls over when they hear those sirens and they'll honk back, annoyed, when the emergency vehicle violates the rules of the road.
There are no fire hydrants. If there is a fire, a water truck will eventually come but hopefully you kept the fire at bay with your bucket of sand that sits in place of an extinguisher. Maybe your neighbors brought their buckets to help you. Maybe you live in the slums and that fire spread so quickly it destroyed yours, and 500 of your neighbors homes in a matter of an hour.
As a parent of a then 2-year old, I couldn't imagine the helplessness felt by parents who relied on that system to help when their baby was hurt. Parents who likely didn't know that it could be different. I've been fortunate to experience both worlds and I know that. America is not perfect and there are underserved regions of our country that experience our system differently. But, the difference between having a system and not is stark and I am grateful every moment for the systems we have in America. Even the ones that still need work. Because we also have a system for fixing systems.
So, when I hear the sirens and see the truck, a rush of emotions come. And they're complex but the crux is the gratitude I have for every second I enjoy the benefits of life in my home country--benefits of systems as simple as firetrucks and paramedics. Having these thoughts today brought some extra tears as I thought more deeply of all the Americans who have lost their lives in pursuit of our country's safety and freedom. The men and women who have sacrificed so I can count on that ambulance to come, to bring a paramedic, and to take my children to a clean emergency room.
I'm not looking to analyze the benefits or shortcomings of our system (not in this post at least), rather only to recognize the difference between having a system and not. And, the cost of creating and protecting that system. Thank you to those who never came home, who died in service to give me the very things that make my tears well up each time I hear those sirens.
My husband, family members, and dear friends served our country...and they came home. Today, my heart remembers those who didn't and I wish nothing more than for them, and their families, to know how much gratitude I feel for their contributions to this world.
No comments:
Post a Comment