This is not an anomaly; it happens every time. Just when you want to throw up at the Hummer driving, cigar smoking, SAT comparing bullshit, a terrible rumor emerges and, unfortunately, is proven true.
This is my town where backyard finagling and barbeque lead to stacked teams while deserving athletes and families are left outside looking in.
This is my town where police blotters are scoured for names of the afflicted, and sighs of relief echo when we escape another week unscathed.
And this is my town where one terrible phone call alerts the gossip mill of a sick kid, a dead spouse, a tragic accident, and immediately, all neighborhood scandals evaporate. The troops rally and the village takes over.
A woman hit by a car. A house burned to the ground. A dad drops dead. Or a beloved 9-year-old with much more than a virus.
Before you know it, meals are made, car pools arranged, lawns mowed and laundry done. This is my town that holds and nurtures, not just our own family, but all our families. Any phone call could be the moment our own lives change forever, and everyone in my town is acutely aware of that.
So we do what we can when that phone rings. The hurting can heal without worry or consequence to the everyday work that must be done even if ... even when. No questions. No comments. No problem. Just done. This is my town.