My Captain came home from working 12 hours of overtime today, during which he ran a rather disturbing, pediatric, trauma call.
Memories of the day must have been dogging him.
Stress, and suppressed high emotions, must have been banging around in his head and heart as he pulled his truck into the driveway.
Re-runs of how the call unfolded must have been looping in his brain as he tiredly, and ever so slowly, walked to the house.
The picture of that child’s face must have been haunting his thoughts as he put down his keys, and walked into the family room to join us.
Did he voice them? Did he share them? What did he do first?
He grabbed Critter and asked him to go get his new, handmade, homemade, paper boomerang to show it off. Then he followed the very enthusiastic boy outside, soaking up the Critter’s joy. He encouraged him, and applauded him, and loved him as Critter laughed, and ran, and jumped, and threw that thing for…
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