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23 March 2016

23 March 2016

Din păcate acest articol este disponibil doar în Engleză Americană. For the sake of viewer convenience, the content is shown below in the alternative language. You may click the link to switch the active language.

Waking up on a numb morning.

Grey skies outside and in my heart.

I drag myself out of bed and I promise myself I will make a difference today.

I still slip from time to time in the carousel of images that were projected on all screens possible

yesterday about the massacre in Zaventem and Brussels.

My heart shrinks, my teeth clench. I think of those who left this world and of those left behind.

I suddenly realize that my heart physically cramped whenever I saw images from the airport and

of my ex-colleagues working there. I used to be one of them. I could have been there myself,

working, smiling to people embarking to adventurous destinations…

4 days ago I landed in Zaventem from Orlando totally carefree.

I remember I took a deep breath of the special smell of the arrivals hall. A sweet mix of holiday

and coming back… home. It felt sooooo soooooo good.

In the arrivals hall my boys hugged me, I kissed my husband and we continued the adventure in

the Java cafe just next to the exit.

Sacha, my 8 years old, was scrutinizing the soldiers at the entrances of the building.

‘Mom, why are they still here?” he asked while nibbling on his croissant sipping savant from his

hot chocolate. ‘They got the nasty guy, right?’

‘Yeah’, continued Bruno, my 10 year old son, ‘the greatest terrorist of all times’, he added with

conviction.

I looked at them and I pondered my words.

‘Well, you know, an airport is actually the most secured place on earth. You do not need to worry’

I replied.

The conversation got flooded by hundreds of questions about the amazing Orlando holiday,

especially over the pool of the hotel.

‘You are so lucky!’ exclaimed Jeremy, my 6 year old one.

Indeed I am… Never in my life would I have thought of this ordinary conversation again – of how

common it has become to see military and police forces at every step you took – until this

morning…

I am grateful for having received the grace and the gift of living one more day with my guys.

I stepped out from the chilling noise of the water hitting the tiled walls to the awkward silence of

the living room.

I was the last to get downstairs.

The childish euphoria of yesterday when they heard the news that the schools are closed made

place for unspoken concern. They would not go to the cinema, they would not go to roller

skating, they would play in the garden and… help in the house. „How boring…” they sighed.

„Safe, not boring”… I told it to myself.

I sat on the cold leather couch, I closed my eyes and I prayed: „Dear God, let there be love and

light!”

When I opened my eyes, Bruno was standing in front of me with a cup of coffee he made

himself. Jeremy handed me a cookie. Sacha… was watching us from the top of his Nintendo.

Silent…

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