There was a terrible airline crash tonight in Buffalo, New York. A commuter jet crashed into a house and exploded. Forty-eight souls on the plane, and one on the ground lost their lives.
My son's job requires frequent air travel, and he's been working a lot in Buffalo in recent weeks. The last he called, he was working in Puerto Rico, but that's been about ten days ago. Now, I had no idea if he was even traveling today, but when I heard about the crash, it suddenly became imperative that I hear from him now. I wasn't panicking precisely. Let's just say, I was very concerned and worried. I texted him. Nothing. I e-mailed him. Nothing. I called him (and it's nearly 2 a.m. as I'm writing this). Voicemail. I called my friend, Boston, so she could "talk me down" so to speak. I love that she took my concern seriously instead of blowing it off as an overreaction. While I was talking to her, I heard the call waiting beep. It was my son. Yes! Thank You, God.
Other than wondering why his mother was calling him at one in the morning, he was fine, still in Puerto Rico, and working hard.
What's up, mom?
Oh, nothing, honey. I just thought you had been in an airplane crash, is all.
We talked about this and that for a few minutes, I said 'I love you, sweetheart. Please stay safe.', and he went back to work. But I'll tell you, I had tears in my eyes.
I know the fear and near panic I felt even just thinking that, please God, no, don't let him be on that plane. I can't imagine the shock and sorrow the families of the victims will be feeling. My heart goes out to them.
But he's fine, and I can take a deep breath and go to bed.
