Frankly, . . .

I'm stunned when the short blonde lady behind the counter asks, "How are you doing today?" I've gotten used to the hurry up push, can I help the next customer, sell of today's consumer place. So my smile is tentative, and my voice hesitant as I reply, "Okay, I guess." But then she continues, as though she senses that things aren't okay, that is. And she adds, "It's really beautiful this morning, and we're not in Iraq."

I can't reply. I can't say anything to her because she only wanted me to have a nice day and because we are in Iraq.

Sense and non . .

sense lets be real. It's pain and frustration. This is what you feel. Late at night, you wait for relief. But morning comes, and time's still a thief.