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My Job
As I rush to grab my gear for this next job
I'm filled with the mixed feelings
Of both dread and hope
My crew and I board the helicopter
As quicky as possible
Knowing time is of the utmost importance
To arrive late would mean...
Well it's just unacceptable
We are only a few miles out now
From the location where we are needed
I look into my partner's eyes
And see the same concern I feel
I see the same burden of responsibility
That is weighing down on my shoulders
But most of all
I see that same glimmer of hope
"A twelve year old male. 110 pounds. Blonde hair."
Even after seven years
The crackled description of the missing person
Screams at me through he radio
Sending chills down my spine
"This is it"
It is a whispered motivation
As I prepare myself for the day ahead
The door of the helicopter opens
And I take my position at its edge
From this view the beach looks perfect
Children playing in the sand
A smile painted across everyone's face
It is then that I spot her
As we are finishing our first of many laps
Searching the ocean for a helpless young boy
I catch a glimpse of the mother
Her tear striken face
And puffy red eyes
The determination in which
She fights for her son
It is most definitely not a perfect day
After seven hours of circling
Nothing has been found
We are no longer searching for a boy
But instead a body
It is nowhere to be found
A storm starts to roll in from afar
And I know it is time
Time to return empty handed
Time to face a devastated and broken mother
Time to tell her that her boy didn't show
And time to watch her fall to pieces
As her world shatters around her
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 3 comments.
Now back at the base
I review the day in my head
Action by action
Second by second
Analyzing my every mistake
And wondering which it was
That cost a twelve year old boy
His life
17 articles 0 photos 11 comments
Favorite Quote:
\"If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?\"<br /> or<br /> \"Some books are ment to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested\"