On the Megabus bound for Cleveland, there was time to kill. I read the Chicago Tribune death notices closely.
Lost from my hometown just in the last couple of days had been:
Fond special friends.
A devastating loss! Had there been a bombing overnight?
And yet, Chicago, this morning, had seemed the same as ever.
Every day we lose thousands of lovely people from this warm and caring world (for it is that too, you know), and so every day we must also replace them.
Until, finally, we're lost.
And, if we're lucky, thanked for our efforts.
And then replaced, in a day.
Which, as I headed east on I-80, seemed okay with me.