Terror

Thursday morning I left the apartment as usual and started the long, 100 yard walk to work when all of a sudden....


BOOM!

Like, BOOM...for real.  I felt the ground vibrate - I felt a small shock wave go through me.  I stood there frozen for a moment trying to process, and then looked at the shelter in front of me and sprinted inside.  Two nice gentlemen joined me.  They walked briskly which I'm sure looked better than my sprint, but c'mon people---BOOM!  That's no time to look cool.

We stood inside for a few minutes in silence waiting to see if anything else would go off, or if the alarm would sound - and then one man left.  I stayed put and the other guy looked at me and said, "I think it makes sense to wait a little longer." Uh, yeah.

Apparently it was one of the many car bombs that went off in Baghdad that day killing at least 70 and wounding 374.  It was one of the bloodiest days in Baghdad since the military withdrew.

Car bombs go off in Baghdad all the time, but that's the first one I heard AND felt.  It was close and yet it wasn't close enough that I feel like it should have been so loud and strong.  I can't imagine what it sounds/feels like when you're right next to the blast.

I walked to work, with weak knees.  I wasn't really in danger, but it was a wake up call that forced me to remember where I am, that's for sure.  And it reminded me that one good blast is all it takes.

It was a tragic day in Iraq.  These bombs primarily targeted security, government and police forces, but they killed many innocent people.  Including children - like a 6th grade boy who was walking to school.  Imagine:  your child leaves the house and kisses you goodbye to go to school... and that's the last you see him because someone ignited a car bomb and blew him up.  I think of my nieces and nephews and I'm torn between rage and grief imagining them in this scenario.  They also hit a primary school.

Usually I forget where I live in this sheltered little community, but when I'm reminded it's both shocking and devastating by turns.  I was shaken up this morning for an hour or so as I started my day, but I'm still alive.  I hate that the fear I felt--for one short hour--is a fear that innocent men, women and children in Baghdad feel every moment of every day.