I live maybe 1/4-mile from a hospital.
There’s a helipad at that hospital. And no matter what kind of day I’m having, when the sound of those helicopter blades are audible — no matter if they’re increasing in noise because the helicopter is coming in or getting ready to go out — my heart skips a beat.
You realize very quickly what really matters in those moments.
On Friday night, I was exchanging a couple of texts with my older son, as we celebrated another upset in the opening round of the NCAA men’s basketball tournament. I could feel the smile on my face as our messages flew back and forth, and within seconds I could feel it wiping away as that rotor became audible.
A win or a loss in a sports event really is unimportant at a moment like that.
Smooth Aggregator, Not So Smooth Poet 