I feel minutes of normalcy and then a thought will intrude and I have a sudden pang as I remember again. Then I think about it for a while, wonder through some things, then try to go back to doing something that needs to be done. Laundry. Making dinner. Cleaning the cat box. Sometimes the intrusion of the re-realization is so strong that I want to push it away, knowing that there isn’t more I can think of. So I try to distract myself with TV (comforting shows from an innocent childhood, like “The Brady Bunch”, or the strict, ordered elegance of Martha Stewart). Then I forget, and channel surf, and it all comes back. Someone’s talking about war. Someone’s showing that video again. Some station is showing an American flag. I do want to keep learning more, so I get on the web. I read what’s new. Lots of people have a lot to say. As they should. I look through the latest list of victims. Someone from my hometown died. John Iskyan. I don’t know him. I probably know someone who knows him. But I feel that everyone knows someone who has died, even if they don’t really. It was that harsh and loud. It’s time to pet the cat again.