If Life were a big pot of alphabet soup, my bowl would contain a lot more Q’s than A’s. For example . . .
q: What purpose is served by roaches?
a: They can be fitted with tiny cameras in order to go where no other living creature can go (say . . . to search for earthquake victims). This is the only viable answer I have ever heard for this question.
More seriously . . .
Q: Why, if one reaps what one has sown, do “good” people sometimes suffer more than “bad” people?
And most recently . . .
Q: Why would an eleven-year-old boy be taken from this world in a freakish accident while playing in the front yard?
Having just finished a fine birthday feast at my mother’s home, we were startled by my aunt bursting through the back door asking, “How is it that y’all don’t know what’s going on just up the street? There are police cars and ambulances everywhere!”
We learned that a boy, eleven, had been found unconscious with a dog leash twisted around his neck. Many hands tried to save him, but he did not survive. How it happened is a mystery. No foul play is suspected.
One household is celebrating Life while a few houses up the street Death has seized a child.
“WHY!” our hearts scream, only to have Silence respond.
Questions without answers. Life is disproportionately full of them.
I search my bowl, but each time I dip my spoon, all I come up with is the Q’s. Oh . . . wait . . . here’s something . . .
Never mind . . . I found an “a” but only a lower-case “a” . . . that thing about the roaches.
Someone Else is holding all the big A’s.