Processing

Going on two weeks and I am just now settling down, absorbing the impact of the news even as it's been blasted across the world 24/7. Am I slow? Maybe. No matter. I get it. Got it the moment regularly scheduled programming had been interrupted. I just struggled to get to the connection.
Where was I when I first heard the music? Their music. Who was I when this group of boys, who looked like us, first came across the radio? Grade school-an institution that doesn't even exist anymore, K-8Th education has been replaced...
There I was then plaid skirt, white blouse, hideous shoes. I remember it being toward the end of the school year, summer just breaking through...the end of a long day, waiting to be picked up or the last song of a dance. "I'll Be There" the signal a sign, to have some boys arm on your shoulder or around your waist. What this meant didn't matter, it was something to move you closer to some far off place called adolescence. High school was just months away it was certainly down hill from there, wasn't it?
I was put these images together, connected to all the others broadcast daily, yesterday-all morning, glued to CNN. Listening feeling the music, poke then pull its way out...finally able to connect to the madness the media had created. Rest in peace Michael.