The press of the people around me. The smell of so many different people, air that has seems like it has been breathed and re-breathed and I wonder if there is anything good left in it, anything sustaining left by the time I inhale it, exhale it. I put my hand on Chad’s back, missing his ponytail that I used to hold like a lifeline, following him through the group, willing myself to not loose him. I know it’s crazy, but I feel like I could drown in the crowd, like if I loose my grip on Chad I might never be found. I constantly check to make sure the kids are with us – holding a hand, being carried, just somehow still in contact, not swept away be the crowds.
And then we make it to a clearing, out of the way of all the people, and I can breathe. Count noses, we’re all here. Relief washes over me. I wonder – is this how it felt for the Israelites to go through the desert and come out in the Promised Land?
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