I would drop Troy as school on the way to work. Our route took us near a UPS hub, and we used to count the number of brown trucks we would see during our morning drive. I can't remember now what the record was.
After I dropped Troy, I would continue my drive.
Over this bridge:
Twice a day.
Yesterday morning I looked at CNN (my main source of news) and clicked on a link about a bridge collapse on the Mississippi river (mainly because I am a shameless ambulance chaser.)
I was stunned to see if it was a very familiar bridge.
Yesterday we spent a lot of time checking on the updates, emailing friends and family to make sure everyone we love is safe and sound. So far, everyone is accounted for. Today the names of the four confirmed fatalities were listed.
I cannot imagine what it must have been like to feel that bridge fall away from underneath your car.
It's one of the odd things of living so far away from a familiar place. I find myself torn between being present in Madrid and feeling like I am standing at the edge of that broken bridge, watching what is going on there.