De la vie horrible (I do not know what will serve ... but this post is dedicated to you) But if you read books I received a call that left me completely stunned. A level of unbearable sadness mixed with anger and a need absolute answers prompted me to write this post. I'll start from the beginning ... I was about eight years
when I was invited to spend a day in the mountains of Vermont. Ben and I will be punctual with our packed lunch. It was one of those spring days that notice, the return of summer, one of those days where you do not see the time that mothers can remain focused and take away jerseys and running madly in a "short sleeves" ... finally free. My mother was wearing a blue shirt and a sweater that was immediately forgotten in some seat of the bus. Ben had shorts, knees and encrusted hoodie made of chocolate. Then there was this little girl ...
Her hair color light brown braids rolled a perfectly starched white dress with embroidery on a cardigan and red gerberas. The girl seemed shy, but not so much as to seem scared ... just shy. Shy and extremely polite. If he was so aloof, but with a way to do ... like sit there and watch us who have had enough fun to make her rejoice. I will not leave you in peace ... I miss the saints, trembled to see her there alone to pick daisies, she too had come running madly with us. So I said ... in a sense, ordered to follow us to go and see the cows. He hesitated a bit 'but in the end she was well watching cows. 'Ste cows but they were there and were not much of a girlfriend to entertain us, so we thought it well to jump on the fence to make the acrobats. Lined up side by side, we walked to the edge as the ropes course ... the child was the last. Until he felt a thud and we realized that she had fallen right in the middle of a big pile of dung ... maybe there is destined to become fertilizer. When he was pulled out, her dress was encrusted with dirt, his face, hands and legs completely covered with mud that it gave off a nauseating smell. The poor child had to remain so throughout the day.
The thing that surprised me was that he accepted bad luck with a calm and stoic behavior that I was completely unknown at the time. The girl did not cry, do not panic, did not call anyone, did not say a word. He tried his hands with a bit of dusting 'the dress and then went to sit. I
... without the slightest delay, that day, I decided that manure in the fall was the worst thing that could happen to a human being. And for many years to come, that incident remained in my memory as an example of the dire misfortunes that might happen when you go in the country ... and somehow I felt too guilty to ask it and so have facilitated the occurrence of such horror.
Then, last week, as I said, I received a call from Ben (thank God that today no longer has encrusted the knees or the sweatshirt made of chocolate ... at least I hope) that told me he had read about the news of the meeting body of a girl murdered by a neighbor literally schizophrenic ... so ... for no apparent reason. ... This girl was the girl.
So ... I try to calm down. They say ... Whatever happens for a reason, right?
OK after that phone call, my lineup of horrors was traumatically and violently rearranged ... I mean, I certainly agree with all of you to say that fall into a pile of feces is not as the greatest disgrace that could happen to a human being ... that being brutally killed was much worse. But I doubt that this event happened on purpose cossichè I could rearrange my personal ranking of the various horror.
So I'm wondering ... well ... I ask God, if you knew he had to go out this way ... at least you could not leave that day to have fun and be happy with her pretty dress embroidered to make a tightrope walker? No? Why?
I demand an answer!
